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WINTER SCENE ON BOSTON COMMON. 








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OSCAR 








OR THE 


BOY WHO HAD HIS OWN WAY. 




"O >-nrrvc 
w 


BY 


WALTER AIMWELL, 


AUTHOR OF “CLIH'tON,” “BOY’S OWN GUIDE,” ETC. 


Witt) £ llus tr at fens. 


BOSTON: 

GOULD AND LINCOLN, 

59 WASHINGTON STREET. 

NEW YORK .* SHELDON, BLAKE MAN & CO., 
CINCINNATI : GEO. S. BLANCHARD. 

1858 . 


TZt 

.Ss^ 

&A, 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by 
GOULD AND LINCOLN, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court, of the District of Massachusetts, 


Qdr.'Xi N 


1 


FEINTED BY 

GEOEGE C. BAND & ATEET. 


THOMAS B. SMITH, 
STEEEOTYPEK AND ELECTEOTYPEB, 

216 William St., N. Y. 


(T 2.T2 M^fA 


PREFACE. 


In the story of Oscar is portrayed the 
career of a bright but somewhat headstrong 
boy, who was over-indulged by his parents, 
and who usually managed to “have his own 
way,” by hook or by crook. The book is de- 
signed to exhibit some of the bad consequences 
of acquiring a wayward and lawless spirit, and 
of falling into indolent, untruthful, and disobe- 
dient habits. These are its main lessons, in- 
termingled with which are a variety of others, 
of scarcely less importance to the young. 


Winchester, Mass. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


“precepts may lead, but examples draw.” 

“ The Aimwell Stories ” are designed to portray some 
of the leading phases of juvenile character, and to point 
out their tendencies to future good and evil. This they 
undertake to do, by describing the quiet, natural scenes 
and incidents of every-day life, in city and country, at 
home and abroad, at school and upon the play-ground, 
rather than by resorting to romantic adventures and 
startling effects. "While their main object is to persuade 
the young to lay well the foundations of their characters, 
to win them to the ways of virtue, and to incite them to 
good deeds and noble aims, the attempt is also made to 
mingle amusing, curious and useful information with the 
moral lessons conveyed. It is hoped that the volumes 
will thus he made attractive and agreeable, as well as in- 
structive, to the youthful reader. 

Each volume of the “ Aimwell Stories ” will he com- 
plete and independent of itself, although a connecting 
thread will run through the whole series. The order of 
the volumes, so far as completed, is as follows : 

I. Oscar ; OR, THE BOY WHO HAD HIS OWN WAY. 

II. Clinton; or, Boy-Life in the Country. 

III. Ella ; or, Turning over a New Leaf. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

A KITCHEN SCENE. 

PAGH 

Bridget and her little realm — A troop of rude intruders — An imperious 
demand — A flat refusal— Prying investigations — Biddy’s displeasure 
aroused— Why Oscar could not find the pie— Another squabble, and 
its consequences— Studying under difficulties— Shooting peas— Ralph 
and George provoked— A piece of Bridget’s mind— Mrs. Preston— 
George’s complaint— Oscar rebuked— A tell-tale— Oscar’s brothers 
and sisters — His father and mother. 15 


CHAPTER II. 

OSCAR IN SCHOOL. 

Oscar’s school — The divisions and classes — Lively and pleasant sights 
— Playing schoolmaster — Carrying the joke too far to be agreeable — 
Oscar’s indolence in school — Gazing at the blackboard— A release 
from study, and an unexpected privilege — Whiling away an hour — 
Doing nothing harder work than studying — A half-learned lesson — 

A habit of Oscar’s— A ridiculous blunder— Absurd mistakes of the 
British government about the great lakes— Oscar less pardonable than 
they — Another blunder — Difference between giiessingand knowing — 
Oscar detained after school— His recitation — Good advice — Remem- 
bering the blackboard— Willie Davenport— A pounding promised . . 25 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER III. 

PAYING OFF A GRUDGE. 

PACK 

Whistler — Why Ralph liked him— Why Oscar disliked him — A cau- 
tion — A sudden attack — An unexpected rescue — The stranger’s ad- 
vice— A brave and manly answer — Whistler refuses to expose Os- 
car’s name— The boys separate— George’s report of the scene, and 
Ralph’s explanation— Oscar’s return — His sister’s rebuke— His moth- 
er’s inquiries — Misrepresentations— Willie exonerated— Forgiving 
enemies — An unpleasant promise called to mind — Mr. Preston’s ac- 
tion in the matter— Oscar refuses to punish himself— The chamber — 

A surprise — Falsehood— Exposure— The account settled— Silence — 
Late rising and a cold breakfast — What Mrs. Preston said— Its effect 
upon Oscar— Concealed emotion— Mistaken notions of manliness — 
Good impressions made— George’s narrow escape 37 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE HOTEL. 

Alfred Walton— His home— Hotel acquaintances — Coarse stories and 
jokes— Andy— His peculiarities— Tobacco— A spelling lesson— The 
disappointment — Anger— Bright and her family — Fun and mischief 
— The owner of the pups — A promise — A ride to the depot— A walk 
about the building — Examining wheels— The tracks— An arrival — A 
swarm of passengers— Two young travellers taken in tow— Their 
story — Arrival at the hotel — A walk — Purchase of deadly weapons — 

A heavy bill — Gifts to Alfred and Oscar — A brave speech for a little 
fellow— Going home 51 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE YOUNG TRAYELLERS. 

The Sabbath — Uneasiness — Monday morning— A pressing invitation to 
play truant— Hesitation— The decision— Oscar’s misgivings— Man- 
ners of the two travellers— A small theft— Flight— A narrow escape— 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

A costly cake of sugar— The bridge to Charlestown— The monu- 
ment— The navy yard— Objects of interest— Incidents of Joseph’s 
life — A slight test of his courage — Oscar’s plans — Going to dinner — 

A grand “take in”— Alfred’s disclosures— Real character of the 
young travellers— Their tough stories— A mutual difficulty— Confess- 
ing what cannot be concealed— Good advice and mild reproof— The 
teacher’s leniency explained 64 


CHAPTER YI. 

WORK. 

A command— Passing it along— Reluctant obedience— A poor excuse 
—A bad habit— Employment for vacation— Oscar’s opposition to the 
plan— Frank the errand-boy— Thanksgiving week— A busy time— 
Oscar’s experience as store-boy — Learning to sweep — Doing work 
well — A tempting invitation— Its acceptance— A ride— Driving horses 
—The errand— The return— Oscar at the store — Sent off “ with a flea 
in his ear”— The matter brought up again— Oscar’s excuse unsatisfac- 
tory— Ralph’s services rewarded— Difference between the two boys. . 77 


CHAPTER VII. 

THANKSGIVING-DAY. 

Grandmother’s arrival — Surprises — Presents — Oscar at a shooting- 
match — Bad company — Cruel sport — Home again— Prevarication— 

A remonstrance — Impudence, and a silent rebuke — The dinner — A 
stormy afternoon— A disappointment— Evening in the parlor— A call 
for stories — How the Indians punished bad boys — What Oscar 
thought of it — An Indian story — The hostile party — The alarm — The 
stratagem — The onset — The retreat — The victory — Laplot River — 
Widow Storey's retreat — Misfortunes of her husband — Her enter- 
prise and industry — Fleeing from the British — The subterranean 
abode — Precautions to prevent discovery— Uncle James — The fellow 
who was caught in his own trap — Old Zigzag — His oddities — His 
tragic end— How the town of Barre, Vt., got its name— A well-spent 
evening 89 


vm 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER Ylir. 

GRANDMOTHER LEE. 

PAGE 

One of her habits— Ella’s complaint — Alice’s reproof— Ella’s rude re- 
ply to her grandmother — A mild rebuke — A sterner reproof— Shame 
and repentance — Popping corn — George’s selfishness — A fruitless 
search for the corn-bag — Bad Temper — An ineffectual reproof— 
George’s obstinacy — How he became selfish — Difficulty of breaking 
up a bad habit— What he lost by his selfishness — Oscar’s dog — He is 
named “ Tiger” — His portrait — His roguishness — Oscar’s trick upon 
his grandmother— Unfortunate ending— Tiger’s destructiveness— A 
mystery, and its probable solution — Oscar’s falsehood— Tiger’s ban- 
ishment decreed, but not carried out — Grandmother Lee’s remon- 
strance with Oscar— Bridget’s onset— Oscar’s excuse— Moral princi- 
ple wanting— Mrs. Lee’s departure 105 


CHAPTER IX. 

WINTER SPORTS. 

Coasting— Oscar’s sled— Borrowing and lending— A merry scene on 
the Common — Various sleds and characters— A collision — Damage 
to Ralph and the “ Clipper” — Not accidental— The guilty parties call- 
ed to account— No satisfaction obtained — Ralph’s trouble — Oscar’s 
anger— His revenge— A fight — Its termination — Skating — Tiger on the 
ice — His plunge into an air-hole — His alarm and escape — Going home 
— Unfounded fears awakened — Tiger’s shame— A talk about air-holes 
— What they are for, and how they are made— Skaters should be 
cautious— A change in Tiger’s habits — A great snow-storm — Appear- 
ance of the streets— Fun for the boys — A job for Oscar— He is wiser 
I than his father — Nullification of a command — The command repeat- 
ed— Icy sidewalks— Laziness and its excuses— A wise suggestion — 
Duty neglected — Oscar called to account — His excuses — Unpleasant 
consequences of his negligence— The command repeated, with a 
“ snapper” at the end— The dreaded task completed 122 


CONTENTS 


LX 


CHAPTER X. 

APPEARANCES. 

PAGE 

A compulsory ride— Merited retribution— A sad plight for a proud boy 
—Laughter and ridicule — Oscar’s neatness and love of dress— The 
patched jacket— Oscar’s objections to it— Benny Wright, the boy of 
many patches — His character — The jacket question peremptorily set- 
tled — A significant shake of the head — A watch wanted — Why boys 
carry watches — Punctuality — Oscar’s tardiness at school — The real 
cause of it— Thinking too much of outside appearances — Character 
of more consequence than cloth — An offer— The conditions — A hard 
question — How to accomplish an object— Oscar’s waywardness— 
Boarding-school discipline — The High School— An anticipated nov- 
elty 140 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE MORAL LESSON. 

Oscar’s shrewdness— His reputation for integrity — A new want— Per- 
plexity — A chance for speculation — A dishonest device— Its success 
— Secrecy — The fraud discovered — Oscar’s defence — Restitution re- 
fused — Indignation — The Monday morning lesson in morals— Dis- 
honesty— Rectifying mistakes — The principle unfolded— Restoring 
lost articles— A case for Oscar to decide — His reluctant decision — 
Taking advantage of another’s ignorance— Duty of restitution — Other 
forms of dishonesty — Better to be cheated than to cheat — Effect of 
the lesson upon Oscar 3>3 


CHAPTER XII. 

SICKNESS. 

Wet feet— A command disobeyed— Dabbling in the water— Playing 
on the ice — An unexpected adventure — Afloat on an ice-cake — A 
consultation — Danger and alarm — Spectators — A call for help — A 
critical situation — The rescue — Effects of the adventure — feverish 


X 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

dreams— Strange feelings— The doctor’s visit— Lung fever— The Lat- 
in prescription — Oscar’s removal— He grows worse — Peevishness — 
Passing the crisis — Improved behavior — Getting better — General re- 
joicings— Further improvement — Return of a bad habit — Fretfulness 
and impatience — A dispute — First attempt to sit up— Its failure 
—First day in an easy chair— The sweets of convalescence— Danger of 
a relapse 164 


CHAPTER XIII. 

GETTING WELL. 

v • 

Hunger — An evil suggestion— First visit down stairs— Midnight supper 

— Weakness and exhaustion — An ill turn — The doctor’s visit — The 
mystery explained— Contents of a sick boy’s stomach — The doctor’s 
abrupt farewell — His recall — Promise of obedience— Punishment for 
imprudence — Directions — Effects of the relapse — Slow recovery — The 
menagerie procession— A wet morning — Disobedience— Exposure, 
and its consequences — Reading — The borrowed book— The curious 
letter — Puzzles, with illustrations — Guessing riddles — Oscar’s treat- . 
ment of Benjamin— His present feelings towards him— Ella’s copy of 
the letter— Oscar’s growing impatience— An arrival — Uncle John — 

The loggers— Cousins never seen — A journey decided upon — Solution 
of riddles, conundrums, &c 179 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE JOURNEY. 

setting out— A long and wearisome ride— Portland— The hotel— Going 
*o bed— The queer little lamp— Lonesomeness— The evening prayer 
—Morning — Breakfast — The railroad depot — Oscar’s partiality for 
stage-coaches and good horses — Eighty miles by steam— Dinner — 

The stage-coach— An outside seat — The team and the roads — Vil- 
lages — Mailbags— Forests and rivers— End of the stage ride — Jerry — 

An introduction — A ride in a wagon — Bashfulness — An invisible 
village — The journey’s end— Mrs. Preston — More shy cousins— Sup- 
per — Evening employments — Attempting to “ scrape acquaintance” 

— Mary tells Oscar his name — More questions— The tables turned — 
Getting acquainted in bed 193 


CONTENTS 


xi 


CHAPTER XY. 

BROOKD ALE. 

PAGE 

A dull morning— New acquaintances— Inquiries about Jerry’s school- 
time— A long vacation— Work— Playmates— Rain— A fine sunrise— 

The distant pond— A call to breakfast — Preliminary operations — Jer- 
ry’s uncombed head— Oscar’s neatness— Jerry sent from the table- 
Bad manners— Bathing in the pond— An anticipated pleasure inter- 
dicted— The river— A walk— The pond— Map of Brookdale— Going 
to ride — The Cross-Roads — Billy’s speed discussed — The variety store 
— All sorts of things — Oscar’s purchase — Returning home — Short 
evenings — A nap — A queer dream — Oscar’s smartness at dreaming — 
Making fun of a country store— Mary’s question — Crying babies — 
Teasing — Walking backwards — A trip and a fall — A real crying 
baby — Mary comforted — Jerry cuffed — Mortification 204 


CHAPTER XYI. 

IN THE WOODS. 

Forgotten medicine and renewed health— An excursion planned— A 
gun wanted, but denied — Setting out on a long tramp — Swamps — 
Upland — Brooks — How Brookdale got its name — Cutting canes — 
Birch and beech — How to crook the handle of a cane — The philoso- 
phy of it explained— The cigars— Fine groves— Stopping to rest — The 
forest described— Birds and guns— Other game — Jim Oakley’s strange 
animal — Moose — The man who met a bear — A race — Mysterious dis- 
appearance of the bear — The probable cause of his visit — The boy 
who killed two bears— Oscar’s courage— Prospect Rock— A fine view 
— The rabbit — The woodchuck’s hole— Crossing a swamp — Mos- 
quitos— The pond — The hermit’s hut — Some account of “Old 
Staples” — Buried treasures — Making a fire — Baking potatoes and 
toasting cheese — Drinking pond water— Dinner — Hunting for the 
hermit’s money — What they meant to do with it — A bath proposed — 
Smoothing over the matter— Going into water — Drying their hair — 
Going home — Lost in the woods — Arrival home— One kind of pun- 
ishment for wrong-doing 218 


Xll 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER XVII. 

CLINTON. 

PAGE 

The missing cap— Splitting wood— Jerry and Emily — A quarrel begun 
— The cap found — A drink of buttermilk — Oscar’s opinion of it — 
Jerry’s love for it — Another delay — Feeding the fowls — A mysterious 
letter— The Shanghae rooster’s complaint— Curiosity excited — The sus- 
pected author — Clinton’s education — Keeping dark about the letter — 
Who Clinton was — Where he lived — Killing caterpillars — How cater- 
pillars breed— The young turkeys — The brood of chickens — The hen- 
coop — Clinton’s management of the poultry — His profits — Success 
the result of effort, not of luck — The “ rooster’s letter” not alluded 
to — The piggery — The barn— “The horse’s prayer” — A new-comer 
—Her name — A discovery — Relationship of Clinton to Whistler— 

Mrs. Davenport— Oscar conceals his dislike of Whistler — The shop — 
Specimens of Clinton’s work— Going home 238 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE LETTER. 

A forgotten duty called to mind — Letter writing — A mysterious allu- 
sion— The private room— No backing out— Making a beginning— Get- 
ting stuck— Idling away time — Prying into letters— A commotion 
among the swallows— Teaching the young ones how to fly — A good 
lesson lost — Mary and her book — Her talk about the pictures — A 
pretty picture — A wasted hour— Making another attempt — His suc- 
cess — Effects of being in earnest— A copy of Oscar’s letter — Emily’s 
inquisitiveness — A rebuke — The message she wanted to send — The 
meadow lot — Mulching for trees — Going to the old wood lot — Cutting 
birch twigs — Forgetting to be lazy — The load — A ride to the Cross- 
Roads — Mailing the letter — Paying the postage in advance 254 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE RECALL. 

Hankerings after a gun — A plan— Jim Oakley’s gun — A dispute — An 
open rupture — The broken gun — Going home mad — A call from 
Clinton— The letter— Summons home— Disappointment— Bad feeling 
between Oscar and Jerry— How they slept— Remarks about their ap- 


CONTENTS 


xiii 

PAGE 

pearance at the breakfast table— Borrowing trouble— Another visit 
proposed— Jerry’s explosion of anger— His imprudence— Confinement 
down cellar — An unhappy day — “ Making up” at night — A duty neg- 
lected — Inquiries about the gun — Starting for home — A pleasant 
drive — The stage-coach— The cars— Luncheon — Half an hour in Port- 
land — The Boston train — A spark in the eye — Pain and inflammation 
— Boston — Ralph’s surprise — Welcome home — The eye-stone — The 
intruder removed 2 ,n 


CHAPTER XX. 

DOWNWARD PROGRESS. 

* 

Oscar’s dread of going to school — Unsuccessful pleas — Oscar at school 
— His indifference to his studies — A “talent for missing” — A reproof 
—Kicking a cap — Whistler’s generosity— Benny Wright — Oscar’s 
bad conduct — Regarded as incorrigible— The tobacco spittle— Os- 
car’s denial— Betrayed by his breath— A successful search— The 
teacher’s rebuke— The new copy— Its effect — A note for Oscar’s father 
— What it led to— Concealment of real feelings— Bridget’s complaint 
— The puddle on the kitchen floor— Oscar’s story— Conflicting reports 
— A new flare-up — The truth of the matter — Bridget’s departure — 
Examination day — The medals— The certificate for the High School 
— A refusal— Bitter fruits of misconduct 2S4 

CHAPTER XXI. 

NED MIXER. 

Vacation — Associates — Edward Mixer — His character — Loitering 
around railroad depots— An excursion into the country— The railroad 
bridge— Fruit— A fine garden— Getting over the fence— Looking for 
birds’ nests— Disappearance of Edward and Alfred— A chase— Es- 
cape of the boys— Hailing each other— Edward’s account of the ad- 
venture — A grand speculation— Pluck— Secrecy— Curiosity not grati- 
fied— Arrival of Oscar’s uncle— The officer’s interview with Mr. Pres- 
ton— The real character and history of Ned— Timely warning— Os- 
car’s astonishment— What he knew concerning Ned— A hint about 
forming new acquaintances — Oscar’s removal from city tefnptations 
decided on — A caution and precaution— Departure— Ned’s arrest and 
sentence— The “ grand speculation” never divulged 300 




Page 

Winter Scene on Boston Common frontispiece 

Vignette Title-page 

Playing Schoolmaster 27 

The Assault 39 

Bright and her Family 56 

Thanksgiving Market Scene 89 

Tiger’s Countenance 114 

The Overturn 141 

Afloat on the Ice 168 

A Queer Name 187 

The Double Face 187 

The Cat-erect 188 

Map of Brookdale 211 

The Dinner in the Woods 233 

Mary and the Picture-Book 261 

The Stage-Coach 280 

Hunting for Birds’ Nests, 


304 


OSCAR. 


CHAPTER 1. 

A KITCHEN SCENE. 

JJRIDGET, the Irish servant girl, had finished the 
house-work for the day, and sat down to do a little 
mending with her needle. The fire in the range, which 
for hours had sent forth such scorching blasts, was now 
burning dim ; for it was early in October, and the 
weather was mild and pleasant. The floor was swept, 
and the various articles belonging in the room were ar- 
ranged in their proper places, for the night. The mis- 
tress of the kitchen, — for Bridget claimed this as her 
rank, if not her title, — was humming a queer medley 


16 


NOISY BOYS. 


of tunes known only to herself, as her clumsy fingers 
were trying to coax the needle to perform some dex- 
trous feat that it did not seem inclined to do in her 
hands. What she was thinking about, is none of our 
business ; but whatever it was, her revery was suddenly 
disturbed, and the good nature that beamed from her 
face dispelled, by the noisy clattering of more than one 
pair of little boots on the stairs. In a moment, the 
door opened with a jerk and a push, and in bounded 
three boys, with as little display of manners or proprie- 
ty as so many savages might exhibit. The oldest di- 
rected his steps to the closet, singing, as he peered 
round among the eatables : 


“Eggs, cheese, butter, bread, — 

Stick, stock, stone-dead.” 

“ Biddy,” he continued, “ I ’m hungry — give me 
something to eat, quick.” 

Bridget paid no attention to this demand, but only 
twitched her needle with a little more energy. 

“ I say, Biddy,” continued the boy, “ what did you 
have for supper? Come, give me some, I ’m half 
starved.” 


AN ATTRACTION. 


17 


“And why did n’t ye come when the supper was 
ready, if ye wanted any ?” said Bridget. “ If ye won’t 
ate with the rest, it ’s not me that will wait upon ye, 
Master Oscar.” 

“ Well,” continued Oscar, “ if you won’t help me, I 
guess I can help myself. Ralph, what did you have 
for supper ?” 

The boy addressed named over several articles, among 
which were cake and mince-pie, neither of which could 
Oscar find in the closet. 

“ Where did you put the pie, Biddy ?” he inquired. 

“It ’s where ye won’t find it,” replied Bridget, 
“ that ’s jist where it is.” 

“ I bet I will find it, come now,” said Oscar, with a 
determined air ; and he commenced the search in ear- 
nest, prying into every covered dish, opening every 
drawer and bucket, and overhauling and disarranging 
every part of the closet. Bridget was just then in too 
irritable a mood to bear this provoking invasion of her 
realm with patience. In an angry tone, she ordered 
the intruder to leave the closet, but he took no notice 
of the command. She repeated the order, making it 

more emphatic by calling him a “ plague” and a “ tor- 
2 * 


18 


IRREGULAR HABITS. 


ment,” but he did not heed it. Then she threatened to 
tell his parents of his misconduct, but this had no ef- 
fect. Oscar continued his search for some minutes, but 
without success ; and he finally concluded to make his 
supper of bread and butter, since he could find nothing 
more tempting to his appetite. 

The fact was, Oscar was getting in the habit of being 
absent from his meals, and calling for food at unseason- 
able hours, much to the annoyance of Bridget. She 
had complained of this to his mother several times, 
without effect ; and now she thought she would try a 
little expedient of her own. So, when she cleared away 
the supper-table that evening, before Oscar came home, 
she hid away the cake and pies with which the others 
had been served, and left only bread and butter in the 
closet. She gained her end, but the boy, in rummag- 
ing for the hidden articles, had made her half an hour’s 
extra work, in putting things to rights again. 

As Oscar stepped out of the closet, after his solitary 
supper, he moved towards the youngest of the other 
boys, saying : 

“Here, George, open your mouth and shut your 
eyes, and I ’ll give you something to make you wise.” 


HECTORING. 


19 


George declined the gift, but Oscar insisted, and tried 
to force it upon him. A struggle ensued, and both 
rolled upon the floor, the one crying and screaming 
with anger, and the other laughing 83 though he consid- 
ered it good fun. George shut his teeth firmly togeth 
er, but Oscar succeeded in rubbing enough of the mys- 
terious article upon his lips to enable him to tell what 
it was. It proved to be a piece of pepper, a plate of 
which Oscar had found in the closet. 

This little experiment, however, did not leave George 
in a very pleasant frame of mind. It was some time 
before he got over his blubbering and pouting. Oscar 
called him a “ cry-baby,” for making such a fuss about 
a little bit of pepper, which epithet did not aid him 
much in forgetting the injury he had received. 

After awhile, quiet and harmony were in a measuie 
restored. Ralph and George got their school-books, 
and began to look over the lessons they were to recite 
in the morning ; but Oscar not only remained idle, 
himself, but seemed to try to interrupt them as much 
as possible, by his remarks. By-and-bye, finding they 
did not take much notice of his observations, he took 
from his jacket pocket a small tin tube, and commenced 


20 


SHOOTING PEAS. 


blowing peas through it, aiming them at his brothers, 
at Bridget, and at the lamp. Ralph, after two or 
three had taken effect on his face, got up in a pet, and 
took his book up stairs to the sitting-room. George 
scowled and scolded, as the annoying pellets flew around 
his head, but he did not mean to be driven away by 
such small shot. Bridget, too, soon lost her patience, 
as the peas rattled upon the newly-swept floor. 

“ Git away with yer pays, Oscar,” said she ; “ don’t 
ye be clutterin’ up the clane floor with ’em, that ’s a 
good b’y.” 

“They aint ‘pays,’ they are peas” replied Oscar; 
“ can’t you say peas, Biddy ?” 

“ I don’t care what ye call ’em,” said Bridget ; “ only 
kape the things in yer pocket, and don’t bother me 
with ’em.” 

“Who’s bothering you?” said Oscar; “the ‘pays’ 
don’t make any dirt — they ’re just as clean as your floor.” 

“Ye ’re a sassy b’y, that ’s jist what ye are.” 

“ Well, what are you going to do about it ?” 

“ Faith, if it was me that had the doin’ of it, I bet 
I ’d larn ye better manners, ye great, impudent good- 
for-nothin’, if I had to bate yer tin times a day.” 


COMPLAINTS. 


21 


“ You would n’t, though, would you ?” said Oscar ; 
and he continued the shower of peas until he had ex- 
hausted his stock, and then picked most of them up 
again, to serve for some future occasion. He had hard- 
ly finished this last operation, when his mother, who 
had been out, returned home. As soon as she entered 
the kitchen, George began to pour out his complaints 
to her. 

“ Mother,” he said, “ Oscar ’s been plaguing us like 
everything, all the evening. He got me down on the 
floor, and rubbed a hot pepper on my mouth, and tried 
to make me eat it. And he ’s been rummaging all 
round the kitchen, trying to find some pie. And then 
he went to shooting peas at us, and he got Bridget real 
mad, and Ralph had to clear out, to study his lesson. 
I told him — ” 

“ There, there, George, that will do,” replied his 
mother ; “ I am sick of hearing these complaints. Os- 
car, why is it that I can’t stir out of the house, when you 
are at home, without your making trouble with Bridge 
or the children ? I do wish you would try to behave 
yourself properly. You are getting the ill-will of every- 
body in the house, by your bad conduct. I really be- 


22 


TALE-TELLING. 


lieve your brothers and sisters will begin to hate you, 
before long, if you keep on in this way. For your own 
sake, if for nothing more, I should think you would try 
to do better. If I were in your place, I would try to 
keep on good terms with my brothers and sisters, if I 
quarrelled with everybody else.” 

Oscar made no reply to this, and the subject was 
soon dropped. His mother was too much accustomed 
to such complaints of his misconduct, to think very 
seriously of them ; and he was himself so used to such 
mild rebukes as the foregoing, that they made little im- 
pression upon his mind. The boys, who all slept in 
one chamber, soon retired for the night ; but Oscar took 
no further notice of the occurrences of the evening, ex- 
cept to apply the nickname of “mammy’s little tell- 
tale ” to George — a title of contempt by which he often 
addressed his little brother. 

I am afraid that the title of “ tell-tale ” was not whol- 
ly undeserved by George. True, he often had just 
cause of complaint; but he was too ready to bring 
whining accusations against his brothers and sisters, for 
every trifling thing. He complained so much that his 
mother could not always tell when censure was de* 


THE FAMILY. 


23 


served. It liad become a habit with him, and a dozen 
times a day he would go to her, with the complaint 
that Oscar had been plaguing him, or Ella had got 
something that belonged to him, or Ralph would not 
do this or that. 

George, who was the youngest of the children, was 
at this time seven years old ; Ralph was two years and 
a half older, and Oscar, who was the oldest son, was 
about half way between thirteen and fourteen. They 
had two sisters. Alice, the oldest, was fifteen years of 
age, and Eleanor, or Ella, as she was commonly called, 
was about eleven. 

The father of these hoys and girls was a shop-keeper 
in Boston. His business required so much of his at- 
tention, that he was seldom with his family, except at 
meal-times and nights. Even in the evening he was 
usually at the shop ; but when it so happened that he 
could remain at home after tea, it was his delight to 
settle himself comfortably down in the big rocking 
chair, in the well-lighted sitting-room, and to muse and 
doze, while Alice sang, and played upon the piano-forte. 
He had so many other cares, that he did not like to be 
troubled with bad reports of his children’s conduct. 


24 


DOMESTIC MANAGEMENT. 


This was so well understood by all the family, that 
even George seldom ventured to go to him with a com- 
plaint. The management of domestic affairs was thus 
left almost entirely with Mrs. Preston, and she consult- 
ed her husband in regard to these matters only when 
grave troubles arose. 

I have thus briefly introduced to my readers the 
family, one of whose members is to form the principal 
subject of the following pages. 


CHAPTER II. 


OSCAR IN SCHOOL. 

IJ1IIE school which Oscar attended was held in a 
large and lofty brick building, a short distance from 
the street on which he lived. His brothers attended 
the same school, but his sisters did not, it being only 
for boys. The pupils numbered four or five hundred — 
a good many boys to be together in one building. But 
though belonging to one school, and under the control 
of one head master, they did not often meet together in 
one assembly. They were divided into eight or ten 
branches, of about fifty scholars each, and each branch 
had its own separate room and teacher. There -were 
however, only four classes in the whole school ; and a 
this time Oscar was a member of the first, or highest 
class. There was a large hall in the upper story of the 

building, in which the entire school assembled on exhi- 
3 


26 


A PLEASANT SIGHT. 


bition days, and when they met for the practice of sing- 
ing or declamation. 

There were lively and merry times in the vicinity of 
the school-house, I can assure you, for half an hour be- 
fore the opening of school, and for about the same 
length of time after the exercises closed. Four hundred 
Doys cannot well be brought together, without making 
some stir. Every morning and afternoon, as the pupils 
went to and from school, the streets in the neighbor- 
hood would for a few minutes seem to swarm with 
boys, of every imaginable size, shape, manners, dress, 
and appearance. Usually, they went back and forth in 
little knots; and with their books and slates under their 
arms, their bright, happy faces, their joyous laugh, and 
their animated movements, they presented a most pleas- 
ing sight, — “a sight for sore eyes,” as a Scotchman 
might say. If anybody disputes this, he must be a 
sour and crabbed fellow. 

Oscar, although not the most prompt and punctual 
of scholars, used occasionally to go to school in season 
to have a little fun with his mates, before the exercises 
commenced. One day, entering the school-room a little 
Wore the time, he put on an old coat which his teacher 


PLAYING SCHOOL-MASTER. 


27 


wore in-doors, stuck a quill behind his ear, and made a 
pair of spectacles from some pasteboard, which he 
perched upon his nose. Arranged in this fantastical 
manner, he seated himself with great dignity in the 
teacher’s chair, and began to “ play school-master,” to 
the amusement of several other boys. It so happen- 



ed that the teacher arrived earlier than usual that day, 
and he was not a little amused, as he suddenly entered 
the room, and witnessed the farce that was going on. 


% 


28 


INDOLENCE. 


Oscar jumped from his seat, but the master made him 
take it again, and remain in it just as he caught him, 
with his great-coat, pasteboard spectacles and quill, un- 
til all the scholars had assembled, and it was time to 
commence the studies of the day. This afforded fine 
sport to the other boys, but Oscar did not much relish 
the fun, and he never attempted to amuse himself in 
that way again, 

I am sorry that this harmless piece of roguery is not 
the most serious charge that candor obliges me to bring 
against Oscar. But to tell the truth, he was not noted 
either for his studious habits or his correct deportment ; 
and there was very little prospect that he would be 
considered a candidate for the “Franklin medals,” 
which were to be distributed to the most deserving 
members of his class, when they graduated, the ensuing 
July. And yet Oscar was naturally a bright and in- 
telligent boy. He was quick to learn, when he applied 
himself ; but he was indolent, and did not like to take 
the trouble of studying his lessons. Whenever he 
could be made to take hold of a lesson in earnest, he 
soon mastered it ; but the consciousness of this power 
often led him to put off his lessons to the last minute, 


THE BLAC KBOARD. 


29 


and then perhaps something would happen to prevent 
his preparing himself at all. 

A day or two after the “ kitchen scene ” described in 
the preceding chapter, Oscar was sitting at his desk in 
the school-room, with an open hook before him, but 
with his eyes idly staring at a blackboard affixed to one 
of the walls. The teacher watched him a moment, and 
then spoke to him. 

“ Oscar,” he said, “ what do you find so very fascinat- 
ing about that blackboard ? You have been looking at 
it very intently for several minutes — what do you see 
that interests you so f” 

Oscar hung his head, but made no reply. 

“ Are you ready to recite your geography lesson ?” 
continued the master. 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Why do you not study it, then ?” 

“ I don’t feel like studying,” replied Oscar. 

“Very well,” said the teacher, quite pleasantly; “if 
you don’t feel like it, you need n’t study. You may 
come here.” 

Oscar stepped out to the platform on which the 
teacher’s desk was placed. 

3 * 


30 


A TEDIOUS AMUSEMENT. 


“ There,” continued the master, pointing to a black- 
board facing the school, “you may stand there and 
look at that board just as long as you please. But you 
must not look at anything else, and I would advise you 
not to let me catch your eyes turning either to the 
right or the left. Now mind and keep your eyes on 
the board, and when you feel like studying let me 
know.” 

Oscar took the position pointed out to him, with his 
back towards the boys, and with his face so near the 
blackboard, that he could see nothing else without turn- 
ing his head — an operation that would be sure to at- 
tract the attention of the master. At first he thought 
it would be good fun to stand there, and for awhile the 
novelty of the thing did amuse him a little. When he 
began to grow weary, he contrived to interest himself 
by tracing out the faint chalk-marks of long-forgotten 
problems, that had not been entirely obliterated from 
the blackboard. This afforded employment for his 
mind for a time ; but by-and-bye he began to grow tired 
and uneasy. His eyes longed to see something else, 
and his legs were weary of standing so long in one 
position. He wondered, too, whether the boys were 


THE GEOGRAPHY LESSON. 


31 


Poking at him, and whether they smiled at his strange 
employment. At last, after doing penance about an 
hour, his exhaustion got the better of his stubbornness, 
and on informing the master that he thought he could 
ttidy now, he was permitted to take his seat. 

After returning to his desk, Oscar had but little time 
to finish learning his geography lesson, before the class 
was called out to recite. As was too often the case, he 
was but half prepared. The subject of the lesson was 
New York State. Several of the questions put to Os- 
car were answered wrong, either wholly or in part. 
When asked what great lakes bordered on New York, 
he replied : 

“ Lake Erie and Lake Superior.” 

When the question was given to another, and cor 
rectly answered, Oscar exclaimed : 

“ That ’s what I meant — Erie and Ontario ; but I 
was n’t thinking what I said.” 

This was somewhat of a habit with Oscar. When 
e “ missed ” a question, he was very apt to say, after 
the next boy had answered it, “ I knew, only I could n’t 
think;” or, “I was just going to say so.” 

Another question put to him was, whether the water 


32 


A SINGULAR MISTAKE. 


of the great New York lakes was fresh or salt. Oscar 
replied that it was salt. It is but justice to add, how 
ever, that nothing was said in the lesson of the day, on 
this point, although the question had occurred in a pre- 
vious lesson. Noticing that several of the hoys laughed 
at Oscar’s blunder, the teacher remarked : 

“ That was a very foolish answer, Oscar, but you are 
not the first nor the wisest person that has made the 
same mistake. ‘When the British went to war with us, 
in 1812, it is said that all their war vessels intended to 
navigate the lakes, were furnished with tanks and casks 
for carrying a full supply of fresh water ; and I have 
been told that an apparatus is still in existence in one 
of the Canadian navy yards, which the English govern- 
ment sent over, some years ago, for distilling fresh wa- 
ter from Lake Erie. But an American school-boy of 
your age ought to know better than this, if an English 
lord of the admiralty does not. These great lakes are 
among the remarkable features of our own country, and 
every American child should know something about 
them. I should suppose,” continued the teacher, “ that 
a boy who could afford to look steadily at nothing for 
an hour, might take a little pains to inform himself 


ANOTHER BLUNDER. 


33 


about so common a matter as this, so as not to appear 
so ridiculous, when a simple question is asked him.” 

Before the lesson was concluded, Oscar made still an- 
other mistake. There was an allusion in the lesson to 
the great fire of 1835, by which an immense amount 
of property in New York city was destroyed. When 
the teacher asked him how many buildings were said 
to have been consumed, he replied : 

“Three hundred and fifty — five hundred and thirty 
— no, three hundred and fifty.” 

“ Which number do you mean ?” inquired the mas- 
ter. 

“ I aint §ure which it is,” replied Oscar, after a mo- 
ment’s hesitation ; “ it ’s one or the other, I don’t know 
which.” 

“You are about as definite,” said the teacher, “ as the 
Irish recruit, who said his height was five feet ten or 
ten feet five, he was n’t certain which. But are you 
sure that the number of buildings burnt was either 
three hundred and fifty, or five hundred and thirty ?” 

“ Why — yes — I — believe — it was one or the other,” 
replied Oscar, hesitatingly. 

“You believe it was, do you? Well, I believe you 


34 


DETAINED AFTER SCHOOL. 


know just nothing about the lesson. You may go to 
your seat, and study it until you can answer every 
question ; and after school I will hear ycu recite it , 
and remember, you will not go home until you can re- 
cite it.” 

The class continued their recitation, and Oscar re- 
turned to his seat, and commenced studying the lesson 
anew. It was already late in the afternoon, and as he 
did not like the idea of stopping after school, he gave 
pretty close attention to his book during the rest of the 
session. About fifteen minutes after the school was dis- 
missed, he told the teacher he was prepared to recite, 
and he succeeded in getting through the lesson with 
tolerable accuracy. When he had finished, the teacher 
talked with him very plainly about his indolent habits 
in school, and the consequences that would hereafter 
result from them. 

“ I would advise you,” he said, “ to do one of two 
things, — either commit your lessons perfectly, hereafter, 
or else give up study entirely, and ask your father to 
take you from school and put you to some business. 
You can learn as fast as any boy in school, if you will 
only give your attention to it ; but I despise this half- 


GOOD ADVICE. 


35 


way system that you have fallen into. It is only wast- 
ing time to half learn a thing, as you did your geogra- 
phy lesson this afternoon. You studied it just enough 
to get a few indistinct impressions, and what little you 
did learn you were not sure of. It would be better for 
you to master hut one single question a day, and then 
know that you know it, than to fill your head with a 
thousand half-learned, indefinite, and uncertain ideas. 
I have told you all this before, but you do not seem to 
pay any attention to it. I am sorry that it is so, for 
you might easily stand at the head of the school, if you 
would try.” 

Oscar had received such advice before, but, as his 
teacher intimated, he had not profited much by it. If 
anything, he had grown more indolent and negligent, 
within a few months. On going home that night, 
Ralph accosted him with the inquiry : 

“ What did you think of the blackboard, Oscar ? 
I)o you suppose you should know it again, if you 
should happen to see it?” 

“ What do you mean ?” he inquired, feigning igno- 
rance. 

“ 0, you ’ve forgotten it a’ready, nave you ?” contin- 


36 


A THREAT. 


ued Ralph. “ You don’t remember seeing anything of 
a blackboard this afternoon, do you?” 

“But who told you about it?” inquired Oscar; for 
though both attended the same school, their places 
were in different rooms. 

“ 0, I know what ’s going on,” said Ralph ; “ you 
need n’t try to be so secret about it.” 

“ Well, I know who told you about it — ’t was Bill 
Davenport, was n’t it ?” inquired Oscar. 

Willie and Ralph were such great cronies, that Os 
car’s supposition was a very natural one. Indeed, 
Ralph could not deny it without telling a falsehood, 
and so he made no reply. Oscar, perceiving he had 
guessed right, added, in a contemptuous tone : 

“ The little, sneaking tell-tale — I ’ll give him a good 
pounding for that, the first time I catch him.” 

“ You ’re too bad, Oscar,” interposed his brother ; 
“Willie did n’t suppose you cared anything about 
standing before the blackboard — he only spoke of it 
because he thought it was something queer.” 

Seeing Oscar was in so unamiable a mood, Ralph 
said nothing more about the subject, at that time. 




CHAPTER III. 


PAYING OFF A GRUDGE. 

rjlHE morning after the events just related, as Ralph 
was on his way to school, he fell in with Willie 
Davenport, or “Whistler,” as he was often sportively 
called by his playmates, in allusion to his fondness for 
a species of music to which most boys are more or less 
addicted. And I may as well say here, that he was a 
very good whistler, and came honestly by the title by 
which he was distinguished among his fellows. His 
quick ear caught all the new and popular melodies of 
the day, before they became threadbare, which gave 
his whistling an air of freshness and novelty that few 
could rival. It was to this circumstance — the quality 
of his whistling, rather than the quantity — that he was 
chiefly indebted for the name of Whistler. Nor was he 
ashamed of his nickname, as he certainly had no need 


38 


WHISTLER. 


to be ; for it was not applied to him in derision, but 
playfully and good-naturedly. • 

Whistler and Ralph were good friends. There was 
a difference of between two and three years in their 
ages, Whistler being about twelve years old ; but their 
dispositions harmonized together well, and quite a 
strong friendship had grown up between them. A very 
different feeling, however, had for some time existed be- 
tween Oscar and Whistler. They were in the same 
class at school ; but Whistler studied hard, and thus, 
though much younger than Oscar, he stood far before 
him as a scholar. This awakened some feeling of re- 
sentment in Oscar, and he never let slip any opportuni- 
ty for annoying or mortifying his more industrious and 
successful class-mate. 

On their way to school, on the morning in question, 
Ralph told Whistler of Oscars threat, and advised him 
to avoid his brother as much as possible, for a day or 
two, until the affair of the blackboard should pass from 
his mind. Whistler heeded this caution, and was care- 
ful not to put himself in the way of his enemy. He 
succeeded in eluding him through the day, and was on 
his way home from school in the afternoon, when Os- 


THE ASSAULT. 


39 


car, who he thought had gone off in another direction, 
suddenly appeared at his side. 

You little tell-tale, you,” cried Oscar, “ what did 
you tell Ralph about the blackboard for ? I ’ll learn 
you to mind your 
own business, next 
time, you mean, 
sneaking meddler. 

Take that — and 
that,” he contin- 
ued, giving Whis- 
tler several hard 
blows with his 
fist. The latter at- 
tempted to dodge 
the blows, but did 
not return them, 
for this he knew 
would only increase the anger of Oscar, who was so 
much his superior in size and strength, as well as in 
the art of fisticuffs, that he could do just about as he j 
pleased with him. The affray, however, was soon 
brought to an unexpected end, by a gentleman who 

i 



40 


whistler’s bravery. 


happened to witness it. Seizing Oscar by the collar of 
his jacket, he exclaimed : 

“ Here, here, sir ! what are you doing to that little 
fellow ? Don’t you know enough, you great lubber, 
to take a boy of your own size, if you want to fight ? 
Now run, my little man, and get out of his way,” con- 
tinued the stranger, turning to Whistler, and still hold- 
ing Oscar by the collar. 

Whistler hesitated for a moment between the con- 
tending impulses of obedience and manliness ; and 
then, drawing himself up to his full stature, he said, 
with a respectful but decided air : 

“ No, sir, I have n’t injured him, and I won’t run 
away from him.” 

“ Well said, well said — you are a brave little fellow,” 
continued the gentleman, somewhat surprised at the 
turn the affair was taking. “ What is your name, sir ?” 

“ William Davenport.” 

fy And what is this boy’s name ?” 

“ Oscar,” replied Willie, and there he stopped, as if 
unwilling to expose further the name of his abuser. 

“Well, you may go now, Oscar,” said the gentle- 


i 


REPORTS. 


41 


man, relinquishing his hold ; “ but if you lay your 
hands on William again, I shall complain of you.” 

The two hoys walked off in opposite directions, the 
gentleman keeping an eye upon Oscar until Whistler 
was out of his reach. 

A little knot of boys was drawn together by the cir- 
cumstance just related, among whom was George, Os- 
car’s youngest brother. He witnessed the attack, but 
knew nothing of its cause. As he went directly home, 
while Oscar did not, he had an opportunity to report 
to his mother and Ralph the scene he had just beheld. 
Ralph now related to his mother the incident of the 
preceding day, which led to the assault; for, seeing Os- 
car’s unwillingness to have anything said about it, he 
had not mentioned the matter to any one at home. 
Ralph was a generous-hearted boy, and in this case was 
actuated by a regard for Oscar’s feelings, rather than 
by’ fear. 

Oscar did not come home that night until after dark. 
As he entered the sitting-room, Alice, who was seated 
at the piano-forte, broke short off the piece she was 
playing, and said, looking at him as sternly as she could, 

“ You great ugly boy !” 

4 * 


42 


A REBUKE. 


“ Why, what ’s the matter now ?” inquired Oscar, 
who hardly knew whether this rough salutation was 
designed to be in fun or in earnest ; “ don’t I look as 
well as usual ?” 

“You looked well beating little Willie Davenport, 
don’t you think you did ?” continued his sister, with 
the same stern look. “ I ’m perfectly ashamed of you 
— I declare, I did n’t know you could do such a mean 
th in or as that.” 

“ I don’t care,” replied Oscar, “ I ’ll lick him again, 
if he does n’t mind his own business.” 

As Oscar did not know that George witnessed the 
assault, he was at a loss to know how Alice heard of it. 
She refused to tell him, and he finally concluded that 
Whistler or his mother must have called there, to enter 
a complaint against him. Pretty soon Mrs. Preston 
entered the room, and sat down, to await the arrival of 
Oscar’s father to tea. She at once introduced the topic 
which was uppermost in her mind, by the inquiry : 

“ Oscar, what is the trouble between you and Willie 
Davenport ?” 

“Why,” replied Oscar, “he’s been telling stories 
about me.” 


MISREPRESENTATION. 


43 


“ Do you mean false stories ?” 

“Yes — no — not exactly false, but it was n't true, 
neither.” 

“ It must have been a singular story, to have been 
either false nor true. And as it appears there was but 
one story, I should like to know what it was.” 

“ He told Ralph I had to stand up and look at a 
blackboard an hour.” 

“ Was that false ?” 

“Yes,” said Oscar, for in replying to his mother, of 
late,. he had usually omitted the “ma’am” (madam) 
which no well-bred boy will fail to place after the yes or 
no addressed to a mother; “yes, it was a lie, for I need 
n’t have stood there five minutes, if I had n’t wanted to.” 

“ Did you stand before the blackboard because you 
wanted to, or was it intended as a punishment for not 
attending to your lesson?” 

“ Why, I suppose it was meant for a punishment, 
but the master told me I might go to my seat, when- 
ever I wanted to study.” 

“ Then,” said Mrs. Preston, “ after all your quibbling, 
I don’t see that Willie told any falsehood. And, in 
fact, I don’t believe he had any idea of injuring you, 


44 


FORGIVING ENEMIES. 


when lie told Ralph of the affair. He only spoke of it 
as a little matter of news. But even if he had told a 
lie about you, or had related the occurrence out of ill- 
will towards you, would that be any excuse for your 
conduct, in beating him as you did this afternoon ? Do 
you remember the subject of your last Sabbath-school 
lesson ?” 

Oscar could not recall it, and shook his head in the 
negative. 

“ I have not forgotten it,” continued his mother ; “ il 
was on forgiving our enemies, and it is a lesson that 
jrou very much need to learn. ‘If ye forgive not men 
their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your 
trespasses,’ — that was one of the verses of the lesson. 
It is noble to forgive, but it is mean to retaliate. You 
must learn to conquer your resentful spirit, or you will 
be in trouble all the time. I shall report this matter to 
your father when he comes. I suppose you remember 
what he promised you, when you had your fight with 
Sam Oliver?” 

Oscar remembered it very distinctly. On that occa- 
sion, his father reprimanded him with much seventy, 


THE CHAMBER. 


45 


and assured him that any repetition of the fault would 
not go unpunished. 

Mr. Preston soon came in, and as the family sat at 
the tea-table, he was informed of Oscar’s misconduct. 
After scolding the culprit with much sharpness, for his 
attack upon Willie, he concluded by ordering him imme- 
diately to bed. Although it yet lacked two hours of his 
usual bed-time, Oscar did not consider his punishment 
very severe, but retired to his chamber, feeling delight- 
ed that he had got off so much easier than he antici- 
pated. Indeed, so little did he think of his father’s 
command, that he felt in no hurry to obey it. Instead 
of going to bed, he sat awhile at the window, listening 
to the music of a flute which some one in the neighbor- 
hood was playing upon. Presently Ralph and George, 
who slept in the same chamber with him, came up to 
keep him company. They amused themselves together 
for some time, and Oscar quite forgot that he had been 
sent to bed, until the door suddenly opened, and his 
father, whose attention had been attracted by the noise, 
stood before him. 

“ Did n’t I tell you to go to bed an hour ago, Os- 
car ?” he inquired. 


46 


A BAD SCRAPE. 


“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Why have n’t you obeyed me, then ?” 

“ Because,” said Oscar, “ I ’ve got a lesson to get to- 
night, and I have n’t studied it yet.” 

“ If you ’ve got a lesson to learn, where is your 
book ?” inquired his father. 

“ It ’s down stairs ; I was afraid to go after it, and so 
I was trying to coax Ralph to get it for me.” 

“O, what a story!” cried George; “why, father, ho 
has n’t said one word about his book.” 

This was true. Oscar, in his extremity, had hastily 
framed a falsehood, trusting that his assurance would 
enable him to carry it through. And he would proba- 
bly have succeeded but for George; as Ralph, in his 
well-meant but very mistaken kindness for Oscar, would 
not have been very likely to expose him. But the lie 
was nailed, and Oscar’s bold and wicked push had only 
placed him in a far worse position than he occupied be- 
fore. His father, for a moment, could scarcely believe 
his ears; but this feeling of astonishment soon gav 
way to a frown, before which Oscar cowered like a 
sheep before a lion. Mr. Preston was a man of strong 
passions, but of few words. Having set forth briefly 


THE PENALTY. 


4 / 


but in vivid colors the aggravated nature of Oscar’s 
three-fold offence, — his attack upon Willie, his disobe- 
dience when ordered to bed, and the falsehood with 
which he attempted to cover up his disobedience, — he 
proceeded to inflict summary and severe chastisement 
upon the offender. It was very rarely that he resorted 
to this means of discipline, but this he deemed a case 
where it was imperatively aemanaed. 

Silence reigned in the boys’ chamber the rest of the 
night. Oscar was too sullen to speak ; Ralph silently 
pitied his brother, not less for the sins into which he 
had fallen than for the pain he had suffered ; and 
George was too much taken up with thinking about 
the probable after-clap of this storm, to notice anything 
else. 

Oscar was fond of his bed, and was usually the last 
one of the family to rise, especially in cool weather. 
On the morning after the occurrences above related, he 
laid abed later than usual even with him. His father 
had gone to the store, and the children were out-doors 
at play, before he made his appearance at the breakfast- 
table. He sat down to the deserted table, and was 
helping himself to the cold remnants of the meal, when 


48 


a mother’s reproofs. 


his mother entered the room. Oscar noticed that she 
looked unusually sad and dejected. After sitting in 
silence a few moments, she remarked : 

You see how I^look, this morning, Oscar. I did 
not sleep half an hour last night, and now I am not fi 
to be up from my bed — and all on your account. I am 
afraid your misconduct will be the death of me, yet. I 
used to love to think how much comfort I should take 
in you, when you should grow up into a tall, manly 
youth ; but I have been sadly disappointed, so far. The 
older you grow, the worse you behave, and the more 
trouble you make me. Do you intend always to go on 
in this way V' 

Oscar nervously spread the slice of bread before him, 
but made no reply. His mother continued her re- 
proofs, in the same sad but affectionate tone. She ap- 
pealed to his sense of right, to his gratitude, and to his 
hopes of future success and respectability in life. She 
described the sad end to which these beginnings of 
wrong-doing would inevitably lead him, and earnestly 
besought him to try to do better, before his bad habits 
should become confirmed. Her earnest manner, and 
her pale, haggard cheeks, down which tears were slow- 


PTIFLED EMOTIONS. 


49 


ly stealing, touched the feelings of Oscar. Moisture be- 
gan to gather in his eyes, in spite of himself. He tried 
to appear very much interested in the food he was eat- 
ing, and to look as though he was indifferent to what 
his mother was saying. And, in a measure, he did suc- 
ceed in choking down those good feelings which were 
beginning to stir in his heart, and which, mistaken 
boy ! he thought it would be unmanly to betray. 

Yes, he was mistaken — sadly mistaken. Unmanly 
to be touched by a mother’s grief, and to be moved by 
a mother’s tender entreaties! Unmanly to acknowl- 
edge that we have done wrong, or to express sorrow for 
the wrong act ! Unmanly to resolve to resist tempta- 
tion in the future ! Where is this monstrous law of 
manliness to be found ? If anywhere, it must be only 
in the code of pirates and desperadoes, who have re- 
nounced all human laws and ties. 

The school hour was at hand, and Oscar was obliged 
to start as soon as he had finished his breakfast. Had 
he not stifled the better promptings of his heart, and 
thus done violence to his nature, he would not have left 
his mother without assuring her that he felt sorry for 

his misconduct ; for he did feel some degree of regret, 
5 


50 


GOOD EFFECTS. 


althougl he was too proud to acknowledge it. His 
mother, however, saw some tokens of feeling which he 
could not wholly conceal, and she left him with a sad 
heart, but with the hope that at least some faint im- 
pression had been made upon him. 

And, indeed, some impression was made upon Os- 
car’s heart. The feeling of sullenness with which he 
awoke, had subsided into something resembling “ low 
spirits.” ISTor was this all the effect his mother’s con- 
versation had upon him. As he lay awake in the 
morning, he had planned the secret destruction of a 
beautiful sled which had been given to George, the win- 
ter previous, and which was very precious in the eyes 
of the owner; but now he relinquished this mean and 
revengeful design. Little George thus escaped the 
dreaded “ after-clap,” but he never knew what a blow it 
would have been, nor how near he came to feeling its 
full force. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE HOTEL. 

QNE of Oscar’s most intimate companions was a boy 
of about his own age, named Alfred Walton, who 
attended the same school with him. Alfred’s father 
was dead ; but be had a step-father, whom he called 
father, and with whom he lived. His home was tp Os- 
car a very attractive one ; for it was a public house, 
and had large stables and a stage-office attached, and 
was usually full of company. Alfred’s step-father was 
the landlord of the hotel, and of course he and his 
young friends were privileged characters about the 
premises. Oscar and Alfred were together a great deal 
of the time, when out of school, and quite a warm 
friendship existed between them. On Wednesday and 
Saturday afternoons, and during the other play hours 
of the week, Oscar might generally be found about the 


52 


HOTEL ACQUAINTANCES. 


hotel premises, or riding on the coaches with Alfred. 
He only regretted that he could not stay there alto- 
gether ; for he thought it must be a fine thing to live in 
such a place, where he could do pretty much as he 
pleased, without anybody’s interference. Such, at least, 
seemed to be the privilege of Alfred; for everybody, 
from his step-father down to the humblest servants, ap- 
peared to have too much other business on their hands 
to give much attention to his boyish movements. 

Oscar made many acquaintances at the hotel, not a 
few of which were anything but desirable for a boy of 
his age and character. He was on chatty terms with 
all the stage-drivers, hostlers, and servants about the 
premises, and also got acquainted with many strangers 
who stopped there for a season. He was very fond of 
listening to the stories of the drivers and other frequent- 
ers of the stage-office, and he would sit by the hour, in- 
haling the smoke of their cigars, admiring their long 
yarns, and laughing at the jokes they cracked. Much 
of this conversation was coarse and even vulgar, such 
as a pure mind could not listen to without suffering 
contamination, or at least a blunting of its delicate sen- 
sibilities. It is a serious misfortune for a youth to be 


A QUEER CHARACTER. 


53 


exposed to such influences, hut Oscar did not know it, 
or did not believe it. 

Among the hangers about the stable, was a queer 
fellow who went by the name of Andy. His real name 
was Anderson. He was weak-minded and childish, his 
lack of intellect taking the form of silliness rather than 
of stupidity. Indeed, he was bright and quick in his 
way, but it was a very foolish and nonsensical way. 
He was famous among all the boys of the neighbor- 
hood, for using strange and amusing words, and espec- 
ially for a system of spelling on which he prided him- 
self, and which is not laid down in any of the dictiona- 
ries. He afforded much sport to the boys, who would 
gather around him, and give him words by the dozen 
to spell. The readiness and ingenuity with which he 
would mis-spell the most simple words, was quite 
amusing to them. He never hesitated, nor stopped to 
think, but always spelt the given word in his peculiar 
way, just as promptly as though he did it according to 
a rule which he perfectly understood. 

One Saturday afternoon, as Oscar and Alfred were 
looking about the stable, Andy suddenly made his ap- 
pearance, and asked them for a bit of tobacco. Both 
5 * 


54 


SPELLING. 


of the boys, by the way, wished to be considered tobac- 
co-chewers, and usually carried a good-sized piece of 
the vile weed in their pockets, though it must be con- 
fessed that the little they consumed was rather for ap- 
pearance sake, than because they liked it. They also 
smoked occasionally, for the same reason. 

“ You must spell us a word or two, first,” said Al- 
fred, in reply to Andy’s request. 

“ No, I can’t stop — got important business to nego- 
tiate,” replied Andy. 

“ Yes, you must,” continued Alfred ; “ spell fun.” 

“ P-h-u-g-n,” said Andy. 

“ Spell hotel,” continued Alfred. 

. “ H-o-e-t-e-l-l-e.” 

“ Spell calculate,” said Oscar. 

“ K-a-l-k-e-w-l-a-i-g-h-t — there, that ’ll do,” continued 
Andy. 

“ No, spell one more word — spell tobacco, and you 
shall Lave it,” added Alfred. 

“ T-o-e-b-a-c-k-k-o-u-g-h — now hand over the ’baccy.’ 

“ I have n’t got any — have you, Oscar ?” said Alfred 

Oscar fumbled in his pockets, but there was none to 
be found. 


THE PUPS. 


55 


“You mean. contemptible scalliwags!” exclaimed 
Andy, “why did n’t you tell me that before? You 
catch me in that trap again, if 70U can !” and he 
walked off in a passion, amid the laughter of Oscar 
and Alfred. 

“ Let ’s go and see the pups, Alf,” said Oscar, after 
they had got done laughing over the joke they had 
played upon Andy. 

Alfred’s step-father had a fine dog of the hound 
species, with a litter of cunning little pups. A bed had 
been made for her and the little ones in a corner of the 
yard, adjoining the stable, with a rough covering to 
shelter them from wind and storms. The pups were 
now several weeks old. There were five of them, and a 
fat and frolicksome set they were too. As the boys ap- 
proached them, they were frisking and capering as 
usual ; tumbling and rolling over one another, climbing 
upon the back of their mother, and pulling and bark- 
ing at the straw. Their mother, whose name was 
Bright, sat watching their gambols with a very affec- 
tionate but sedate look. Perhaps she was wondering 
whether she was ever so mischievous and fr.’sky as these 
little fellows were. When the pups looked up and saw 


56 


BRIGHT AND FAMILY. 



the boys, they stopped their fun for a time, for they 
were not yet much accustomed to company, fe right, 


however, knew both Alfred and Oscar ; and as she was 
a dog of good education and accomplished manners, 


57 


A PROMISE. 

she did not allow herself to be disconcerted in tb<* least 
by their presence. 

“ You did n’t know father had given all the pups but 
one to m 3, did you, Oscar?” inquired Alfred. 

“No, — has he, though ?” asked Oscar. 

“ Yes, he has. I knew I could make him say yes, 
and so I teased him till he did. He ’s going to pick 
out one, to keep, and I ’m to have all the rest.” 

“ That ’s first-rate,” said Oscar ; “ and you ’ll give me 
one, won’t you ?” 

“ Yes, you may have one,” replied Alfred ; “ but 
don’t tell the boys I gave it to you, for I mean to sell 
the others.” 

“ Then I ’ll pay you for mine,” continued Oscar ; “ I 
can get the money out of father, I guess.” 

“Ho, you shan’t pay for it, for I meant you should 
have one of them, if you wanted it,” replied Alfred. 

“Thank you,” said Oscar, “I should like one very 
much.” 

After looking at the dogs awhile, and canvassing 
their respective merits, they happened to notice that 
one of the drivers was about starting off with his 
coach. 


58 


THE DEP6T. 


“ Halloo, Mack !” cried Alfred, “ where are you go- 
ing ?” 

“ To the depot,” replied the driver. 

“ Let ’s go, Oscar,” said Alfred ; and both hoys ran 
for the coach, the driver stopping until they had 
climbed up to his seat. 

A ride of five minutes brought them to the dep6t, 
where the driver reined up, to await the arrival of a 
train, which was nearly due. Many other carriages, of 
various kinds, were standing around the depot, for the 
same purpose. Oscar and Alfred rambled about the 
building and adjoining grounds, watching the opera- 
tions that were going on ; for though they had witness- 
ed the same operations many times before, there is 
something quite attractive about such scenes, even to 
older heads than theirs. On one track, within the de- 
pot, were six or eight cars, beneath which a man was 
crawling along, carefully examining the running gear, 
and giving each wheel two or three smart raps with a 
hammer, to see if it had a clear and natural ring. 
These cars had lately arrived from a distant city, and 
must undergo a careful scrutiny before they are again 
used. If any break or flaw is discovered, the car is 


AN ARRIV AL. 


59 


sent out to the repair-shop. On another track, the men 
were making up the next outward train. The par- 
ticular baggage and passenger cars that were to be 
used, had to be separated from the others, and arranged 
in their proper order. Another track was kept clear, 
for the train that was soon to arrive. Two or three 
locomotives, outside of the depot, were fizzing and hiss- 
ing, occasionally moving back or forward, with a loud 
coughing noise, or changing from one track to another. 

The bell of the looked-for train was at length heard. 
The engine, as it approached, was switched upon a side- 
track, but the cars, from which it had been detached, 
kept on their course until the brakes brought them to 
a stand in the depot. The passengers now swarmed 
forth by hundreds — a curious and motley crowd of 
men. women, and children ; good-looking people, and 
ill-looking ones; the fine lady in silk, and the rough 
backwoods-man in homespun ; the middle-aged woman 
in black, with three trunks and four bandboxes, and 
the smooth-faced dandy, whose sole baggage was a 
slender cane. 

The cars were at length emptied of their living 
freight, and most of the passengers had secured their 


60 


TWO STRANGERS. 


baggage. Those who wished to ride, had mostly en- 
gaged seats in the various hacks and coaches, whose 
drivers accosted every passenger, as he got out of the 
cars, with their invitations to “ ride up.” Alfred and 
Oscar now started to look after the stage-coach in 
which they rode to the depot. They found it loaded 
with passengers and baggage, and the driver was 
talking with two small lads, of from twelve to thirteen 
years of age. 

“Here, Alf,” said the driver, “you are just the fellow 
I want, but I thought you had gone. These boys want 
to go to the hotel, but I have n’t room to take them. 
They say they had just as lief walk, and if you ’ll let 
them go with you, I ’ll take their trunk along.” 

This was readily agreed to. The driver made room 
for the trunk on the top of the coach, and the young 
strangers started for the hotel, in company with Alfred 
and Oscar. As they walked along, they grew quite 
sociable. The two new-comers, — who, by the way, 
were quite respectable in their appearance, — stated that 
they belonged in one of the cities of Maine, and had 
never been in Boston before. They were brothers ; and 
both their parents being dead, they said they were on 


A WALK. 


61 


their way to the west, where they had an uncle, who 
had sent for them to come and live with him. They 
had a good many questions to ask about Boston, and 
said they meant to look around the city some the next 
day, as they must resume their journey on Monday. 
Alfred said he would go with them, and show them 
the principal sights ; and Oscar, too, would have gladly 
volunteered, were it not that his father required him to 
go to church and the Sabbath-school on that day, and 
to stay in the house when not thus engaged. 

The boys had now reached the hotel, where the 
trunk had already arrived. A room was appropriated 
to the young guests, and Alfred and Oscar conducted 
them to it, and remained awhile in conversation with 
them. By-and-bye, the oldest of the strangers asked 
Alfred if he would go and show them where they could 
buy some good pistols. Alfred readily agreed to this, 
and the four boys started off towards the shops where 
such articles are sold. On their way through the 
crowded streets, the new-comers found much to at- 
tract their attention. They seemed inclined to stop 
at every shop window, to admire some object, and it 

was nearly dark when they reached the place where 
6 


62 


PISTOLS AND KNIVES. 


they were to make their purchase. Here, amid the 
variety of pistols that were exhibited to them, they were 
for a time unable to decide which to choose. At 
length, however, aided by the advice of Alfred and Os- 
car, they picked out two that they concluded to buy. 
They also purchased a quantity of powder and balls, 
and then desired to look at some dirks, two of which 
they decided to take. Some fine pocket-knives next 
arrested their attention, which were examined, and 
greatly admired by all the boys. The oldest of the 
strangers, who did all the business, concluded to take 
four of these, and then settled for all the articles pur- 
chased. The bill was not very small, but his pocket- 
book was evidently well supplied, and he paid it with 
out any difficulty. 

After they had left the store, the oldest boy gave Os 
car and Alfred, each, one of the pocket-knives, to pay 
them for their trouble, as he expressed it. They were 
much pleased with their present, and felt very well satis- 
fied with their afternoon’s adventure. They were a lit- 
tle surprised, however, that their new friends should 
think it necessary to invest so largely in weapons of de- 
fence ; and on their hinting this surprise, the boy who 


A BRAVE SPEECH. 


63 


purchased the articles said, with a careless, business-like 
air : 

“ 0, we ’ve got to travel a good many hundred miles, 
and there ’s no knowing what rough fellows w r e may 
fall in with. But give me a good revolver and dirk, an 
I bet I will take care of myself, anywhere.” 

The seriousness with which this brave language was 
uttered by a boy scarcely yet in his teens, would have 
made even Alfred and Oscar smile, but for the con- 
sciousness of the new knives in their pockets. 

It was now quite dark, and on coming to a street 
ivhich led more directly towards his home, Oscar left 
he other boys, with the promise of seeing them again 
donday morning. 


CHAPTER Y. 


THE YOUNG TRAVELLERS. 

IJHE Sabbath came, and a fine autumnal day it Mas. 

Oscar’s thoughts were with Alfred, and the boys 
whose acquaintance he had made the afternoon pre- 
vious; but there was little chance for him to join them 
in their walks on that day. He could not absent him- 
self from church or the Sunday-school, without his 
parents’ knowledge; and Mr. Preston had always de- 
cidedly objected to letting the children stroll about the 
streets on the Sabbath. Oscar felt so uneasy, however, 
that in the afternoon, a little while before meeting- 
time, he left the house slyly, while his father was up- 
stairs, and walked around to Alfred’s. But he saw no- 
thing of the boys, and was in his accustomed seat in 
the church when the afternoon services commenced. 

The next morning, Oscar rose earlier than usual, and 
as soon as he could despatch his breakfast, he hurried 


A STRONG TEMPTATION. 


65 


over to the hotel. The travellers had concluded to defer 
their journey one day longer, that they might have a 
better opportunity to see Boston ; and when Oscar ap- 
proached them, they were trying to persuade Alfred to 
stay away from school, and accompany them in their 
rambles. They immediately extended the same invita- 
tion to Oscar. Both he and Alfred felt very much in- 
clined to accede to their proposition, but they were pretty 
sure that it would be useless to ask their parents’ con- 
sent to absent themselves from school for such a pur* 
pose. The point to be settled was, whether it would 
be safe to play truant for the day. Seeing that they 
hesitated, the oldest boy, whose name was Joseph, be- 
gan to urge the matter still more earnestly. 

“ What are you afraid of ?” he said ; “ come along, 
it ’s no killing affair to stay away from school just for 
one day. You can manage so that nobody will know 
it ; and if they should find it out, it won’t make any 
difference a hundred years hence. Come, now, I ’ll tell 
you what I ’ll do ; if you two will go around with us 
to-day, I ’ll give you a quarter of a dollar apiece.” 

Oscar and Alfred, after some little hesitation, yielded 

to their request, and the four boys started on their 
6 * 


66 


MISGIVINGS. 


tramp. It was not without many misgivings, however, 
that Oscar decided to accompany them. With him, 
the chances of detection were much greater than with 
Alfred. No brothers of the latter attended school, to 
notice and report his absence. With Oscar, the case 
was different, and he did not see exactly how his truan- 
cy was to be concealed from his parents and teachers. 
But as Alfred was going with the boys, he finally con- 
cluded that he, too, would run the risk for at least half 
a day, and trust to luck to escape punishment. 

It was decided to go over to the neighboring city of 
Charlestown, first, and visit the Monument and Navy- 
Yard, both of which the young strangers were quite 
anxious to see. Joseph, the oldest and most forward, 
began to be on quite intimate terms with Oscar and Al- 
fred. He threw off every restraint, and laughed and 
talked with them just as if they were old acquaintances. 
One thing very noticeable about him, was his profanity. 
Neither Alfred nor Oscar, I am sorry to say, was en- 
tirely free from this wicked and disgusting habit ; but 
they had made so little advance in this vice, compared 
with their new friend, that even they were slightly shocked 
by the frequent and often startling oaths of Joseph. 


STEALING. 


67 


The younger lad, whose name was Stephen, appeared 
to be quite unlike his brother. Though sociable, he 
was less gay and more reserved than Joseph, but he 
seemed to be much interested in the novel sights that 
met his eye at every step. 

On their way, the boys came to a cellar which was 
occupied by a dealer in fruits and other refreshments. 
Around the entrance were arranged numerous boxes of 
oranges, apples, nuts, candy, and similar articles, to 
tempt the passer-by to stop and purchase. The owner 
was not in sight, and Joseph, as he passed along, bold- 
ly helped himself from one of the boxes, taking a good 
hand-full of walnuts. On looking around, a moment 
after, he saw a man running up the cellar steps, and 
concluded that he, too, had better quicken his pace. 
He accordingly started on a brisk run, the other beys 
joining in his flight. The man, who happened to wit* 
ness the theft from the back part of the cellar, soon saw 
that pursuit would be useless, and contented himself 
with shaking his fist, and uttering some anathemas 
which were inaudible to those for whom they were in- 
tended. 

“ That was a pretty narrow escape, was n’t it ?” said 


68 


THE STOLEN SUGAR. 


Joseph, after they had got a safe distance from the 
man,, 

“ It was so,” replied Alfred ; “ and it was lucky for 
you that he did n’t catch you.” 

“ Why, what do you suppose he would have done ?” 

“ He would have taken you up for stealing, I guess, 
for he looked mad enough to do anything,” said Alfred. 

“ Stealing ? Pooh, a man must be a fool to make 
such a fuss about a cent’s-worth of nuts,” replied 
Joseph. 

“ I knew a boy,” said Oscar, “ who stole a cake of 
maple sugar from one of these stands, and his father 
had to pay two or three dollars to get him out of the 
scrape.” 

“ I would n’t have done it,” said Joseph ; “ I ’d have 
gone to jail first — that ’s just my pluck.” 

“ But the boy did n’t do it — it was his father that 
paid the money,” added Oscar. 

“ 0, then, I suppose the boy was n’t to blame,” said 
Joseph, with all seriousness ; as though he really be- 
lieved that somebody was to blame, not for stealing the 
maple sugar, but for satisfying the man who had been 
injured by the theft. 


CHARLESTOWN. 


69 


They were now upon one of the bridges which cross 
Charles River, and connect the cities of Boston and 
Charlestown. After passing half-way over, they stopped 
a few minutes to gaze at the scene spread out around 
them. Oscar and Alfred pointed out to the strangers 
the various objects of interest, and they then continued 
their walk without interruption until they reached the 
Monument grounds, on Bunker Hill. After examining 
the noble granite shaft which commemorates the first 
great battle of the American Revolution, they threw 
themselves down upon the grass, to contemplate at 
their leisure the fine panorama which this hill affords 
on a clear day. 

After lingering half an hour around the Monument, 
they turned their steps towards the Navy-Yard. On 
reaching it, they found a soldier slowly pacing back 
and forth, in front of the gate-way ; but he made no ob- 
jection to their entering. Joseph and Stephen, who 
had never before visited an establishment of this kind, 
were first struck by the extent of the yard, and the air 
of order and neatness which seemed everywhere to pre- 
vail. They gazed with curiosity upon the long rows of 
iron cannons interspersed with pyramids of cannon- 


70 


Joseph’s stort. 


balls, piled up in exact order, which were spread out 
upon the parks. Then their wonder was excited by the 
dry-dock, with its smooth granite walls, its massive 
gates, and its capacious area, sufficient to float the 
largest frigate. The lofty ship-houses in which vessels 
are constructed, and the long stone rope-walk, with its 
curious machinery, also attracted their attention. So 
interested were they in these things, that nearly two 
hours elapsed before they started for home. 

On their way back to the hotel, Joseph entertained 
Alfred and Oscar with some incidents of his life. His 
mother, he said, died when he was quite young. His 
father went to sea as the captain of a ship, two years 
before, and had never been heard from. He had rich 
relatives, who wanted him to go to West Point and be 
a cadet, but he did not like to study, and had persuad- 
ed them to let him and Stephen go and live with their 
uncle at the west, who had no boys of his own, and 
wanted somebody to help him to manage his immense 
farm. Such, in brief, was Joseph’s story. 

On their return route, the boys were careful to avoid 
passing by the cellar from which Joseph had stolen the 
nuts. With all his pluck and bravery, he did not care 


PERPLEXITY. 


71 


about meeting the man whose displeasure he had ex- 
cited a few hours before. 

It was twelve o’clock before the boys reached the 
hotel. Oscar, during the latter part of the walk, had 
been unusually silent. He was thinking how he should 
manage to conceal his truancy, but he could not hit 
upon any satisfactory plan. The more he reflected 
upon the matter, the more he was troubled and per- 
plexed about it. He might possibly hide his mis-spent 
forenoon from his parents, but how should he explain 
his absence to his teachers ? He could not tell. He 
decided, however, to see his brothers before they should 
get home from school, and, if they had noticed his ab- 
sence, to prevail upon them to say nothing about it. 

“ You ’ll be back again after dinner, Oscar ?” said 
Alfred, as his friend started for home. 

“ Yes,” replied Oscar, with some hesitation ; “ I ’ll see 

you before school-time.” 

% 

“School-time? You don’t intend to go to school 
this afternoon, do you ?” inquired Alfred. 

Oscar did not reply, but hastened homeward. He 
soon found Ralph and George, but as neither of them 
spoke of his absence from school, he concluded that 


72 


A DISCOVERY. 


they were ignorant of it, and he therefore made no al- 
lusion to the subject. 

After dinner, Oscar had about half an hour to spend 
with Alfred ; for he felt so uneasy in his mind, that he 
had decided not to absent himself from school in the 
afternoon. He had gone but a short distance when he 
met his comrade, who had started in pursuit of him. 

“ Well,” said Alfred, “ we ’ve been taken in nicely, 
that ’s a fact.” 

“ Taken in — what do you mean ?” inquired Oscar. 

“Why, by those young scamps that we ’ve been 
showing around town.” 

“ I thought they told great stories,” said Oscar ; “ but 
what have you found out about them ?” 

“I ’ve found out that they are the greatest liars I 
ever came across — or at least that the oldest fellow is,” 
replied Alfred ; and he then went on to relate what 
transpired immediately after Oscar left them, on their 
return from Charlestown. The landlord, it seems, re- 
quested the two strange boys to step into one of the 
parlors ; and Alfred, not understanding the order, ac- 
companied them. They found two men seated there, 
*he sight of whom seemed anything but pleasant tc 


YOUNG RUNAWAYS. 


73 


Joseph and Stephen. These men were their fathers — 
for the boys were not brothers, and Joseph’s account of 
their past life and future prospects was entirely false. 
They had run away from home, and the money which 
they had so profusely spent, Joseph stole from his 
ther. The men, who had been put to much trouble 
in hunting up their wayward sons, did not greet them 
very cordially. They looked stern and offended, but 
said little. Joseph was obliged to deliver up his money 
to his father, and they immediately made preparations 
for returning home by the afternoon train. 

“ Well,” said Oscar, when Alfred had concluded his 
story, “ I did n’t believe all that boy said, at the time, 
but I thought I would n’t say so.” 

“Nor I, neither,” said Alfred. “I guess he did n’t 
expect his father’s ship would arrive so suddenly, when 
he tried to stuff us up so.” 

“ Did your father know you w r ent off with them in 
the forenoon?” inquired Oscar. 

« Yes, but he did n’t care much about it. He told 
me I must go to school this afternoon, and not stay 
away again without leave.” 

The rules of the school required a written note of ex- 

7 


74 


A CONFESSION. 


cuse from the parents, in case of absence. Neither of 
the boys was furnished with such an excuse, and after 
a little consultation, they concluded that their chances 
of escaping punishment would be greatest, if they 
should frankly confess how they had been duped and 
led astray by the young rogues whose acquaintance 
they had so suddenly and imprudently formed. They 
supposed that the peculiar circumstances of the case, 
coupled with a voluntary confession, might excite some 
degree of sympathy, rather than displeasure, towards 
them. To make the matter doubly sure, it was ar- 
ranged that Alfred should speak to the master about 
the matter before school commenced. 

When the boys reached the school-room, they found 
the master already at his desk. He listened with inter- 
est to Alfred’s story of the runaways, and was evidently 
pleased that he had so frankly confessed his fault. As 
the hour for commencing the afternoon session had ar- 
rived, he told Alfred and Oscar they might stop after 
school, and he would take their case into consideration. 

The afternoon passed away, without any unusual oc- 
currence. When school was dismissed, the teacher 
called Alfred and Oscar to his desk, and gave them 


GOOD ADVICE. 


75 


some excellent advice in regard to forming acquaint- 
ances, and yielding to the solicitations of evil associates. 
He told them that the deception which had been prac- 
ticed upon them, should serve as a lesson to them here- 
after. They should not form sudden acquaintances 
with strange and unknown boys, but should choose 
their associates from among those whom they knew to 
be of good habits. He also earnestly cautioned them 
against yielding to the enticements of those who would 
persuade them to do wrong. He told them that when- 
ever they laid the blame of their faults upon others, 
they made a sad confession of their own moral weak- 
ness. They must often encounter temptations, and evil 
examples and influences, even if they took pains to 
avoid them ; but they were not obliged to yield to these 
influences. They must learn to resist temptation, or 
they would speedily be swept away before it. 

Having faithfully pointed out their error and danger, 
the teacher dismissed the boys. They listened respect- 
fully to his advice, and, when they were beyond hk 
hearing, chuckled over their escape from a species of 
admonition that might have proved far more feeling 
and affecting, if not more salutary, than the kindly- 


76 


LENIENCY EXPLAINED. 


meant reproof which had been administered to them. 
The leniency of the teacher, however, must be attribut- 
ed to his not fully understanding the character of their 
offence ; for Alfred had so artfully represented the facts 
of the case, as to make their truancy appear in a milder 
light than it deserved to be regarded. 


CHAPTER VI. 


WORK. 

“ QSCAR, go down cellar and get some coal,” said 
Mrs. Preston one evening, when the fire was get- 
ting low. 

“ I ’m reading — you go and get it, Ralph,” said Os- 
car, without looking up from the newspaper in his 
hand. 

“No, I shan’t,” replied Ralph ; “ I ’ve done all your 
chores to-day, and I won’t do any more.” 

“ Tell Bridget to bring it up, then,” added Oscar, his 
eyes still fastened upon his paper. 

“ Oscar,” said Mrs. Preston, sharply, “ 1 told you to 
get it, and do you obey me, this minute. Bridget has 
worked hard all day, and Ralph has already had to do 
several errands and jobs that you ought to have done, 
and that is the reason why I did not ask them to get 

the coal. You have done nothing but play, when you 
7 * 


78 


EVADING WORK. 


were out of school, since morning, and now, when I ask 
you to do a trifling thing, you try to shirk it upon 
somebody else. I do wish you would break yourself of 
your laziness, and have a little consideration for other 
people.” 

Oscar reluctantly obeyed his mother’s order. Indeed, 
it was seldom that he was very prompt to obey, when 
any kind of labor was required of him. He had a 
peculiar knack of getting rid of work. If he was direct- 
ed to do a thing, he was almost sure to try to coax 
Alice, or Ella, or Ralph, or Bridget, or somebody else, 
to do it for him. He never taxed his own legs, or 
hands, or muscles, when he could make use of other 
people’s. This lazy habit was a source of no small anx- 
iety to his mother, and was a constant annoyance to all 
the family. 

“ Well, you did make out to get it,” said Mrs. Pres- 
ton, in a pleasant tone, when Oscar returned with the 
coal. “ I hope it did n’t hurt you much.” 

“ I was n’t afraid of its hurting me,” said Oscar 
“ but I was reading, and did n’t want to stop.” 

“I am afraid that is only an excuse,” replied his 
mother. “ It has really got to be a habit with you to 


LAZINESS. 


79 


call upon somebody else, whenever you- are told to do a 
thing. We have all noticed it, a hundred times, and 
you alone seem to be blind to it. In a year or two, 
when you are old enough to leave school, and go to a 
place, what do you suppose you will be good for, if you 
keep on in this way ? Why, the man who should take 
you into his employ, would have to hire another boy 
on purpose to wait upon you.” 

“ It is just as mother says, Oscar,” added his eldest 
sister, Alice. “ It was only this morning that Bridget 
was scolding, because you wanted to be waited upon so 
much. She says you make her more trouble than all 
the rest of us together.” 

Oscar could not deny these charges, and so he said 
nothing, but appeared to be reading his newspaper very 
intently. Mr. Preston came in soon after, and the 
family sat down to tea. 

“ Oscar,” said Mr. Preston, “ next week is vacation, is 
it not?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Oscar. 

“ Well, I shall want you in the store a part of the 
time,” continued his father. “ Frank is going home to 


80 


THE ERRAND BOY. 


6pend Thanksgiving, and as it will be a busy week with 
us, we must have somebody tp take his place.” 

“Why can’t Henry do the errands while Frank is 
away ?” inquired Oscar. 

“ Because Henry will have as much other work as he 
can attend to,” replied Mr. Preston. 

“ I don’t see why you let Frank go off at such a 
time,” said Oscar, pettishly. 

“ It is not necessary that you should see,” replied his 
father. “ I can manage my business without any advice 
from you, and I don’t want you to call me to account 
for what I do. I have given Frank a vacation, and I 
shall expect assistance from you — that is all it is nec- 
essary for you to know about it.” 

Frank was the errand-boy in Mr. Preston’s shop. 
Henry, upon whom Oscar wished to lay the burden oc- 
casioned by Frank’s absence, was a young clerk, who 
had formerly served as chore-boy, but was now quite 
useful as a salesman. 

It was evident, from Oscar’s looks, that he did no; 
much relish the idea of taking Frank’s place for & 
week. His mother, noticing this, said : 

“ Why, Oscar, I thought you and Frank were good 


TAKING HIS PLACE. 


81 


friends, and I should suppose you would be willing to 
relieve him a few days. The poor boy has been away 
from his mother nearly a year, and it is natural that he 
should want to go home and spend Thanksgiving. If 
you were in his place, and he in yours, don’t you think 
you should like the arrangement your father proposes?” 

“ I suppose I should,” replied Oscar ; “ but it ’s bar., 
for me to lose my vacation, for the sake of letting Mir. 
have one.” 

“ You will not lose all your vacation,” said his father 
“ If you are lively, you can do all I shall want you to 
do in four or five hours, and have the rest of the day to 
yourself.” 

“ And I ’ll help you, too,” said Ralph, who was al- 
ways ready to offer his assistance in such a case as 
this. 

“ Thanksgiving week” soon arrived, and the busy 
note of preparation for the approaching festival was 
heard throughout the house. Bridget was invested 
with a new dignity, in the eyes of the children, as she 
bustled about among the mince-meat and the pie-crust, 
the eggs and the milk, the fruit and the spices, that 
were to be compounded into all sorts of good things. 


82 


BUSY TIMES. 


The house was filled with savory odors from the oven, 
and long rows of pies began to fill up every vacant 
space in the closet. Mrs. Preston was busy, superin- 
tending the operations of the household ; while Alice 
and Ella rendered such assistance as they could, in the 
chopping of pie-meat, the paring of apples, the picking 
of raisins, &c. The boys, for their share, had an un- 
usual number of errands to run, to keep the busy hands 
inside supplied with working materials. Oscar, how- 
ever, was released for the week from all home chores, in 
consideration of his engagements at the store. 

Oscar did not find his duties as temporary store-boy 
quite so irksome or disagreeable as he anticipated. 
The work was light, and the novelty of it served to off- 
set the confinement, which he had dreaded more than 
anything else. With some assistance from Ralph, he 
managed to do all that was required of him, and still 
have several hours each day for play. He also had an 
opportunity to learn some useful lessons during the 
week. 

One morning, his father sent him up-stairs to sweep 
out a room which was devoted to a certain branch of 
the business. Happening to go into it an hour or two 


LEARNING TO SWEEP. 


83 


after, Mr. Preston observed that it was in a dirty state, 
and called to Oscar to get a broom and sprinkler, and 
come up. 

“ I told you to sweep this room out,” said he, as Os- 
car made his appearance ; “ did you forget it ?” 

“ I have %wept it,” said Oscar, in a tone of surprise. 

“You have?” exclaimed Mr. Preston, with an air of 
incredulity; “I guess you are mistaken. You may 
have shaken the broom at it, but I don’t think you 
swept it. See there^ — and there — and there,” — and he 
pointed out numerous little heaps of dirt, and scraps of 
paper, which had escaped Oscar’s broom. “Now,” he 
continued, “ let me show you how to sweep. In the 
first place, always sprinkle the floor a little, to prevent 
the dust flying, as I told you a day or two ago. You 
omitted that this morning, did n’t you ?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Oscar. 

“Well, just remember it hereafter, for the dust in- 
jures the goods. There ’s water enough, now pass me 
the broom, and I ’ll show you how to handle it. Look, 
now — that ’s the way to sweep — get all the dirt out 
from the corners and crevices, and along the edges, and 
under the counters. Use the broom as though you 


84 


SLIGHTING WORK. 


meant to do something, and were not afraid of it. 
There, that ’s the way to sweep clean — so — and so,” 
and Mr. Preston continued his explanations and illus- 
trations, until he had swept the entire floor. 

“ There, now, does n’t that look better ?” he added, 
after he had finished sweeping. “ If a thing is worth 
doing at all, it is worth doing well — that ’s the true 
doctrine, Oscar. I hope you won’t get in the habit of 
making half-way work with whatever you undertake. 
If I never expected to do anything but sweep chimneys 
or dig clams for a living, I would do it thoroughly 
and faithfully. Of all things, I despise a lazy, slovenly 
workman.” 

It was a very common thing with Oscar to slight his 
work, when he could not get rid of it entirely. This 
was partly the result of a want of interest in it, 
and partly the result of habit. The child who per- 
forms a task reluctantly, will not be very likely to do 
it well. 

The day before Thanksgiving, as Oscar was on his 
way to the store, after dinner, he met Alfred Walton. 

“ You ’re just the chap I ’m after, Oscar,” said Al- 
fred; “I’m going out to Cambridge, all alone in a 


GOING TO RIDE. 


85 


wagon, and I want you to go with me. Come, jump 
in and go, won’t you ?” 

This was a tempting invitation to Oscar, but he did 
not see how he could accept it. He was needed at the 
store more than ever, that afternoon, but it was too bad 
to lose such a fine chance to enjoy himself. Alfred was 
in a hurry, and could not stop long for him to consider 
the matter. So he concluded to run home, and ask his 
father’s permission, while Alfred went and got the horse 
ready. But when he got home, his father had left. 
He found Ralph, however, who readily agreed to take 
his place at the store, for the afternoon ; and on the 
strength of this arrangement, he hurried to the hotel 
and rode off with Alfred. 

It was a mild, pleasant afternoon, and the boys had 
a fine ride. Alfred had been among horses so much, 
that he understood their management pretty well, and 
was a very good driver. He prided himself on his 
ability to turn a neat corner, and to steer through the 
narrowest and most crooked passage-ways, such as 
abound in the contracted and crowded streets of a city. 
When they reached the broad avenues of Cambridge, 

he allowed Oscar to take the reins awhile, at his request. 

8 


86 


UNEASY FEELINGS. 


Alfred’s step-father had been out to Cambridge, in the 
forenoon of the same day, and had purchased a horse 
at the cattle-market which is held weekly at that place. 
As he was obliged to return home by the cars, he left 
word that he would send out for the horse, in the after- 
noon. This was Alfred’s errand. After several in 
quiries, the boys found the man who sold the horse. 
Having examined the new purchase, and freely express- 
ed their opinions of the animal’s “ points,” they hitched 
his halter to the wagon, and set out for home. 

The sun was rapidly descending, when the boys 
reached the hotel stable. Oscar* who felt somewhat 
uneasy about his absence from the store, turned his 
steps in that direction, soon after he alighted from the 
wagon. He found all hands very busy, and for a long 
time no one appeared to notice him. At length his 
father happened to come to the part of the shop where 
he was, and asked him where he had been all the after- 
noon. Oscar proceeded to explain the cause of his ab- 
sence, but Mr. Preston was in too much of a hurry to 
listen to his long excuses, and so he cut him short, and 
told him, in not very pleasant tones, that Ralph had 
done the work, and he (Oscar) might go home again, 


Ralph’s reward. 


87 


just as soon as lie pleased — a privilege of which he 
quickly availed himself. 

At the tea-table, that evening, Mr. Preston expressed 
his displeasure with Oscar’s conduct in very pointed 
terms. Oscar now explained the circumstances of his 
going away — his attempt to get his father’s consent, 
and the promise of Ralph to supply his place. But the 
explanation did not satisfy Mr. Preston. He said Oscar 
knew he was needed that afternoon, and he ought not to • 
have asked to go away, or even to have thought of it. 
Even if Ralph was willing to do his work, he did not 
like his putting so much upon his younger and weaker 
brother. He then complimented Ralph for his industry, 
and his willingness to make himself useful, and held 
him up to Oscar as a pattern he would do well to imi- 
tate. He concluded his lecture to the latter, by draw- 
ing from his pocket a quarter of a dollar, and present- 
ing it to Ralph, as a reward for his services. This 
touched Oscar’s feelings rather more than his father’s 
reproofs. He thought to himself that he had perform 
ed as much work in the store as Ralph, to say the least, 
and was therefore as much entitled to a reward as he. 
There was this difference, however, which he entirely 


THE DIFFERENCE. 


overlooked : Oscar did his share of the work reluctant- 
ly and from compulsion ; Ralph did his cheerfully and 
voluntarily, and solely for the purpose of making him- 
self useful. 


CHAPTER VH. 


THANKSGIVING-DAY. 



IJHANKSGIVING - DAI 
had come. Among tha 
multitude of goo<^ things it 
brought with it, not the 
least important, in the eyes 
of the children, was a visit 
from their grand- 
mother, Mrs. Lee, 
who arrived the 
evening previous. 
She was the 
mother of Mrs. 
Preston, and lived in a distant town in Vermont. She 
had not visited the family for several years, and the 
children and their parents were all very glad to see her 

She was much surprised to find how the 
* 8 * 


once more. 


90 


THE TRUNK UNPACKED. 


young folks had grown since she last saw them. Alice 
had shot up into a young lady. Oscar, who she re- 
membered as “ a little bit of a fellow,” was a tall boy. 
Ella, too, was quite a miss, and Georgie, “ the baby,” 
had long since exchanged his frock for the jacket, 
trowsers, and boots, of boyhood. All these changes 
had happened since their grandmother’s last visit ; and 
yet she was just the same pleasant, talkative old lady 
that she was years ago. The children could not dis- 
cover that time had left so much as one new wrinkle on 
her well-remembered face. 

After breakfast, their grandmother proceeded to un- 
pack her trunk. From its capacious depths she drew 
forth sundry articles, — specimens of her own handiwork, 
— which she distributed among the children, as gifts. 
They were all articles of utility, such as warm, “ coun- 
try-knit” mittens and socks for the boys, and tippets 
and stockings for the girls. A large bag filled with 
nuts, and another of pop-corn, were also among the 
contents of the trunk, and were handed to the children 
to be divided among them. 

In accordance with an agreement made the day be- 
fore, Oscar soon left the house, and went in search of 


THE SHOOTING-MATCH. 


91 


Alfred. Having found him, they set out for South 
Boston, in company with two or three boys, to witness 
a shooting-match got up by a man who worked about 
the stable. The spot selected for the sport was a re- 
tired field, where there was little danger of being inter- 
rupted. On reaching the ground, the boys found a 
small collection of young men and lads already en- 
gaged in the cruel amusement ; for the mark was a live 
fowl, tied to a stake. The company assembled were of 
a decidedly low order, and Oscar at first felt almost 
ashamed to be seen among them. Smoking, swearing, 
betting, and quarrelling, were all going on at once, in- 
terspersed with occasional shouts of laughter at some 
vulgar joke, or at the fluttering and cries of a wounded 
fowl. Sometimes a poor chicken would receive several 
shots, before its misery would be terminated by a fatal 
one. When one fowl was killed, a fresh one was 
brought forth. Each man who fired at the mark, paid 
a trifling sum for the privilege, and was entitled to the 
fowl, if he killed it. 

Oscar and his young companions lingered around the 
grounds for an hour or two, familiarizing themselves 
with scenes of shameful cruelty, and breathing an at* 


92 


Alfred’s character. 


mosphere loaded with pollution and moral death. The 
repugnance which Oscar at first felt to the party and 
its doings was so far overcome, that before he left he 
himself fired one or two shots, with a rifle which was 
lent to him. 

Oscar reached home before the hour for dinner. As 
he entered the sitting-room, his mother, who had missed 

him, inquired where he had been all the forenoon. 

* 

“ I ’ve been with Alf,” he replied. 

His mother did not notice this evasion of her ques- 
tion, but added : 

“ Why do you want to be with Alfred so much ? It 
seems to me you might find better company. I ’m 
afraid he is not so good a boy as he might be. I don’t 
like his looks very much.” 

“ Why, mother,” said Oscar, “ Alf is n’t a bad boy, 
and I never heard anybody say he was. I like him 
first-rate — he ’s a real clever fellow.” 

“ He may be clever enough, but I do not think he is 
a very good associate for you,” replied Mrs. Preston. 

“Who ought to know best about that, you or I?” 
said Oscar, with a pertness for which he was becoming 
a little too notorious. “I see Alf every day, but you 


DINNER. 


93 


don’t know hardly anything about him. At any rate, 
I ’ll risk his hurting me.” 

Oscar’s grandmother looked at him with astonish- 
ment, as he uttered these words. He felt the silent re- 
buke, and turned his head from her. 

“Well,” added Mrs. Preston, “if Alfred is not a bad 
boy himself, I do not believe that the kind of people 
you spend so much of your time with, around the hotel- 
stable, will do either you or him any good. The lessons 
a boy learns among tavern loungers do not generally 
make him any better, to say the least. I wish you 
would keep away from such places — I should feel a 
good deal easier if you would.” 

The subject was dropped, and dinner, — the event of 
Thanksgiving-day, in every New England home, — soon 
began to engross the attention of the household. It 
was a pleasant feast, to old and young. The children 
forgot all their little, fanciful troubles, and the traces of 
care were chased from their parents’ brows for the hour. 

The afternoon was stormy, and the children amused 
themselves with in-door sports. After tea, however, Os- 
car asked his father for some money, to buy a ticket to 
an entertainment that was to take place in the evening. 


94 


SITTING IN THE DARK. 


But both his parents thought he had better stay at 
home, with the rest of the family, and he reluctantly 
yielded to their wishes, coupled with the promise of a 
story or two from his grandmother, about old times. 

A cheerful fire was burning in the grate, when the 
family returned to the parlor, from the tea-table. The 
lamps were not yet lit, although the gray twilight was 
fast settling down, and the ruddy coals began to reflect 
themselves from the polished furniture. Mrs. Preston 
was about to light the lamps, when Ella exclaimed : 

“ No, no, mother, don’t light the lamps — let ’s sit in 
the dark awhile, and then grandmother’s stories will 
seem twice as romantic. You don’t want a light, do 
you, grandmother ?” 

“No,” said the grandmother, “I can talk just as well 
in the dark. But I don’t know as I can tell you any 
very interesting stories. I can’t think of anything now 
but what you have already heard. That ’s just the way 
when I want to tell a story. If I was all alone, I 
should think of lots of things to tell you.” 

“ Can’t you tell us something about the Indians ? — 1 
like to hear about them,” said Oscar. 

“ You would like to know how they served naughty 


THE INDIAN REMEDY. 


95 


boys, would n’t you ?” inquired bis grandmother ; and 
if the room had not been quite so dark, Oscar would 
have seen something like a roguish twinkle in her sober 
gray eye, as she spoke. 

“0 yes, grandmother,” interrupted Ella, “that will 
suit him, I know. At any rate, it ought to interest him 
— so please to tell us what they did to their bad boys, 
and perhaps we shall learn how to serve Oscar.” 

“ And while you are about it, grandmother,” said Os- 
car, “ tell us what they did to naughty girls, too.” 

“I don’t know how they punished girls,” said the old 
lady ; “ but I have heard it said that when they wished 
to punish a boy very severely, they made him lie down 
on the ground, upon his back. They then put their 
knees on his arms, and held his head back, while they 
took into their mouth some very bitter stuff, made from 
the roots of a certain plant, and squirted it into the 
boy’s nose. They kept repeating the dose, till the poor 
fellow was almost strangled, and I suppose by that tim6 
he was cured of his fault.” 

“ Pooh, was that all ?” said Oscar ; “ I thought some- 
thing terrible was coming.” 

“ I guess you would not like to try the Indian reme- 


96 


AN INDIAN STORY. 


dy more than once,” replied his mother ; “ but if you 
think it is so pleasant to take, perhaps your father will 
give you a taste of it, one of these days, if you do not 
behave better than you have done of late.” 

“ Did you ever get frightened by the Indians, grand 
mother ?” inquired Ralph. 

u No,” replied the old lady ; “ there were plenty of 
them around, when I was a little girl, but they had got 
to be quite civil, and we were not afraid of them. I 
wish I could remember all the stories my mother used 
to tell me about them — they were plenty and trouble- 
some, too, in her day. , I recollect one fight that took 

place in our neighborhood, when she was young. One 

* 

evening, a man who was returning from another settle- 
ment, happened to discover a party of Indians, making 
their way very quietly up the river in their canoes, to- 
wards our little village. He watched their movements 
.as narrowly as possible, but was careful not to let them 
see or hear him. When they got within about half a 
mile of the settlement, they pulled their canoes ashore, 
and concealed them among the bushes. They meant 
to creep along very slowly and slily, the rest of the 
way, and then fall suddenly upon the whites, and mur 


THE STRATAGEM. 


97 


der and plunder them before they could know what 
the matter was. But the man who discovered them 
hurried on to the settlement, and gave the alarm. Ten 
men was all he could muster, for there were but a few 
families in the town. These men armed themselves, 
and by the time they were ready for action, the Indians 
had already begun their work of plunder. 

“But the Indians were not cunning enough for the 
white folks, that time. The settlers formed themselves 
into two parties — one of seven and one of three men. 
The three men went down very cautiously to the In- 
dian’s landing-place, and after cutting slits in their bark 
canoes, they hid themselves, and awaited the result. 
While they were doing this, the other party made such 
a furious and sudden attack upon the enemy, that the 
Indians thought they were assailed by a force far supe- 
rior to their own, and so they fled as fast as they could. 
When they reached the landing-place, they jumped 
pell-mell into their canoes, and pushed out into the 
stream. JSTow they thought they would soon be out of 
the reach of harm; but, to their astonishment, the 
canoes began to fill with water, and were entirely un- 
manageable. The three men in ambush now began to 


98 


ANOTHER STORY. 


attack them, and pretty soon the other seven came to 
their aid, and in a little while the Indians were all shot 
or drowned, and not one of the party escaped, to inform 
their kindred what had befallen them. The stream on 
which this happened is called Laplot River. Laplot, 
they say, means ‘the plot,’ and a good many people 
think the river got its name from the stratagem of the 
settlers, but I don’t know how that is.” 

After musing awhile in silence, Ralph called for 
another story. 

“ Let me see,” said his grandmother ; “ did I ever 
tell you about Widow Storey’s retreat, in the Revo- 
lution ?” 

“No ma’am,” said Oscar; “I’ve read about Gen- 
eral Burgoyne’s retreat ; but I never heard of Widow 
Storey before : who was she ?” 

“ 0, it was n’t that kind of a retreat that I meant,” 
said his grandmother ; “ but I will tell you who she 
was. She lived in Salisbury, some twenty or thirty 
miles from where I belong. Her husband was the 
first man who settled in Salisbury, but he was very 
unfortunate. After he had worked hard, and got a 
log cabin ready for his family, it took fire, and was 


WIDOW STOREY. 


99 


destroyed ; and lie himself was killed by the fall of 
a tree, soon after. But his widow was a very smart 
woman ; and though she had eight or ten small 
children, she moved on to the place her husband had 
selected ; and the proprietors of the township gave 
her a hundred acres of land to encourage and reward 
her. She wprked just like a man, and didn’t mind 
chopping down trees, and cultivating the soil, with 
her own hands. But by-and-bye the Revolution 
broke out, and as there were British soldiers in the 
neighborhood, she was afraid they would make Tier 
a visit. She fled several times to another town, where 
there was less danger ; but after awhile a new idea 
entered her head, and she proceeded to carry it out, 
with the aid of a man who lived near her. The idea 
was, to construct a hiding-place, where the British 
could not And them, if they should pay her a visit. 
They selected a spot on Otter Creek, and dug a hole 
right into the bank, horizontally. The hole was a 
little above the water, and was just large enough 
for a person to crawl into. It was so covered up by 
bushes that hung frcm the bank, that a stranger 
would not notice it. This passage led to a large 


100 


THE RETREAT. 


lodging-room, the bottom of which was covered with 
straw. Good comfortable beds were prepared, and 
here the families found a secure retreat, until the 
danger was past.” 

“ That was complete,” said Oscar ; “ but I should 
think the British might have tracked them to their 
retreat, for it J s likely they had to go home pretty 
often, to get food, and look after things.” 

“ Yes,” added his grandmother ; " but they reached 
their retreat by a canoe, so that no footsteps could 
be 'seen leading to it ; and they were careful not to 
go out or in during the day-time. I have heard my 
brother James tell about it. I believe he saw the 
very hole once, where they went in.” 

“ Uncle James was a famous hand for telling 
stories,” remarked Mrs. Preston. “ I shall never 
forget what a treat it was to me, when I was a 
child, to have him come to our house. I used to 
run out and meet him, when I saw him coming 
and coax him to tell me a good lot of stories before 
he went off. I can remember some of them even 
now. He used to tell a story of a crabbed old fel- 
low, jvho was very much annoyed by the boys 


OLD ZIGZAG. 


101 


stealing his apples. So, after awhile, he got a spring- 
trap, and set it under the trees, to catch the young 
rogues. But the boys got wind of the affair, and 
the first night he set it, they picked it up, and very 
quietly put it on his door-step, and then went hack 
to the orchard, and began to bellow as though they 
were in great distress. The old man heard the up- 
roar, and started out, in high glee at the idea of 
catching his tormenters; hut he hardly put his foot 
out of the door, before he began to roar himself, 
and he was laid up a month with a sore leg.” 

“ That was old Zigzag,” said the grandmother ; “ I 
knew him very well.” 

“Old Zigzag! — what a funny name!” exclaimed 
Ralph. 

“ That was n’t his name, although he always went 
by it,” added the old lady. “ He was a very odd char- 
acter, and one of his peculiarities was, that he never 
walked directly towards any place or object he wished 
to reach, but went in a ‘ criss-cross,’ zigzag way, like a 
ship beating and tacking before a head-wind. He was 
a hard drinker, and was almost continually under the 

influence of liquor, and perhaps that was the cause of 
9 * 


102 


A SAD END 


his singular habit. He was a terribly ugly fellow, 
when he was mad, and the boys used to tease him in 
every possible way ; but wo to them if he got hold of 
them.. He lived all alone, for he never had any wife or 
children ; and he would not allow anybody to enter his 
house, on any account, but always kept the door locked. 
If his neighbors had business to transact with him, he 
would step into the yard and attend to them ; but even 
in the severest weather, he would not let them cross his 
threshold. He never would speak to or look at a wo- 
man, and would always avoid meeting them, if possi- 
ble. Poor fellow, he had a dreadful end. He was 
missing for several days, and at last some of the towns- 
people broke into his house, and found him dead, with 
his head badly burned. They supposed he was intoxi- 
cated, and fell, striking his head upon the andiron, 
which stunned him ; and while he lay helpless, he was 
so badly burned that he soon died. And that was the 
last of poor old Zigzag.” 

“ There was another story Uncle James used to tell, 
about the naming of Barre, in Vermont; do you recol- 
lect it, mother ?” inquired Mrs. Preston. 

“ Yes, indeed, and I ’ve heard old Dr. Paddock tell 


NAMING A TO WN. 


103 


it many a time. He was there, and saw it all. The 
people did n’t like the name of their town, which was 
Wildersburgh, and determined to have a new one, 
and so they met together in town-meeting, to talic the 
matter over. One of the leading men came from 
Barre, Massachusetts, and he wanted the town to take 
that name. Another prominent citizen came from 
Holden, Massachusetts, and he insisted that the town 
should be called Holden. The people liked both of 
these names well enough, and it was finally determined 
that the question should be decided by a game of box- 
ing, between these two men. So the meeting adjourned 
to a new barn, with a rough hemlock plank floor, and 
the contest commenced. After boxing awhile, one of 
them threw the other upon the floor, and sprang upon 
him at full length ; but the one who was underneath 
dealt his blows so skilfully, that his opponent soon 
gave in ; and rolling the Holden man out of the way, 
he jumped up and shouted, ‘ There, the name is Barre !’ 
and Barre it has been, to this day. The next day, the 
man who won this victory had to call on the doctor to 
extract from his back the hemlock splinters he had re- 
ceived while struggling on the barn floor.” 


104 


A PLEASANT TIME. 


Thus the evening was beguiled with stories, mingled 
with a few songs by Alice and Ella, and a few favorite 
airs upon the piano-forte. Before the hour of retiring 
arrived, even Oscar was quite reconciled to the loss of 
the evening’s entertainment away from home which he 
had promised himself. 


CHAPTER Yin. 


GRANDMOTHER LEE. 

LEE, the grandmother of the Preston children, 
remained with the family for several weeks, after 
Thanksgiving. Her visit was, on the whole, a pleasant 
one, though there were some shadows thoughtlessly 
cast over it by the children. Age had somewhat im- 
paired her sense of hearing, but yet she always wanted 
to understand everything that was said in her presence. 
Often, when the children were talking to each other in 
a low tone, she would ask them what they were saying. 
Ella did not like these interruptions, and was the first 
to complain of them. 

“O dear,” said she, one day, “I do wonder what 
makes grandmother so inquisitive. I really believe she 
thinks we are talking about her all the time. I can’t 
open my mouth, but she wants to know what I said. 
Don’t you think she is getting childish, Alice ?” 


106 


ALICE AND ELLA. 


“ Why, Ella !” exclaimed Alice, in astonishment ; 
“ I should think you would be ashamed to speak 
so of your poor old grandmother. What do you 
think mother would say if she knew what you said ?” 

“ I can’t help it,” replied Ella ; “ I don’t see why 
grandmother need be so curious about every little 
thing that ’s said. I mean to ask her some time 
when I have a good chance.” 

“ I should think you had better, Miss Impudence,” 
said Alice; “perhaps she would like to have you 
give her some lessons in good behavior.” 

Alice did not for a moment suppose that her 
sister meant to speak to their grandmother upon 
this subject. But she had miscalculated the pert- 
ness of Ella, A day or two after this, as several of 
the children were talking among themselves, the at* 
tention of the old lady was arrested. She could not 
hear distinctly what they said, but Oscar took a 
prominent part in the conversation ; and a moment 
after, on his leaving the room, she asked Ella what 
he wanted. 

“ O, it was n’t anything that you care about, 
grandma’am,” replied Ella. 


RUDENESS. 


107 


“Is that the way your mother teaches you to 
answer questions, Ella ?” inquired Mrs. Lee, in a 
mild, reproachful tone. 

“ No, no, grandmother,” replied Alice, with con- 
siderable earnestness ; “ I shall tell mother how im- 
pudently she spoke to you. A boy has given a 
little dog to Oscar, and that was what he was tell- 
ing us about, just before he went out.” 

“ Why, grandmother,” added Ella, “ I did n’t mean 
to be impudent ; but I ’ve noticed that you always 
want to hear what everybody says, even when they 
are not talking to you, and mother says that is n’t 
polite.” 

“ I am much obliged to you, my dear,” replied 
her grandmother, very meekly ; “ after I have taken 
a few more lessons from you, perhaps I shall know 
how to behave.” 

The feelings of the old lady were more hurt by 
the rudeness of Ella, than her mild rebukes indicated. 
Alice felt bound to inform her mother of what had 
taken place ; and Mrs. Preston was greatly mortified, 
on learning that her little daughter had spoken so 
impudently to her aged mother. She apologized for 


108 


SHAME 


Ella, as well as she could, by saying that she was 
naturally forward and impulsive. At noon, when 
the children returned from school, she called Ella 
into a room by herself, and talked with her about 
her conduct. At first, Ella tried to justify herself ; 
but after awhile her better nature triumphed, and 
she felt heartily ashamed of her treatment of her 
grandmother. To think that she, a girl eleven years 
old, should have attempted to teach her aged grand- 
mother politeness, and in such an uncivil way, too ! 
No wonder she hung her head in shame. 

To be candid, perhaps Ella’s grandmother was a 
little too inquisitive to know what was going on 
around her. But this was one of the infirmities of 
old age which were slowly stealing upon her, and 
which the young should regard with pity and for- 
bearance, but never with a censorious spirit. 

Ella was really a good-hearted girl, when her 
generous feelings were aroused. From that day, she 
treated her grandmother with marked kindness and 
respect; and her unfortunate attempt to rebuke the 
venerable woman was never alluded to again. 

Among the articles which Mrs. Lee brought from 


POPPING CORN. 


109 


the country, for the children, was a small bag of 
corn for popping. One evening, George happened 
to think of this corn, which none of them had yet 
tried ; and partly filling one of his pockets from the 
bag, he slipped quietly into the kitchen, and com- 
menced popping it by Bridget’s fire. There was no 
person in the kitchen but himself, and putting a hand- 
full of corn in the wire popper, it soon began to snap 
and jump about, the hard, yellow kernels bursting 
forth into light and beautiful milk-white balls. But 
by-and-bye the savory odor of the corn found its 
way up stairs, and Ella and Ralph ran down to get 
their share of the treat. George had put the corn 
upon the table to cool, as fast as it was popped ; but 
when he heard footsteps approaching, he scrambled 
it into his pocket as quick as possible. 

“ Halloo, popped corn ! Give me some, Georgie, 
won’t you?” said Ralph. 

44 And me, too,” added Ella. 

“No I shan’t, either,” said George; “I popped it 
for myself.” 

“ You ’re real stingy,” replied Ella ; “ but no mat- 


10 


no 


SELFISHNESS. 


ter, Ralph and I will pop some for ourselves. Where 
is the bag?” 

“You must find it for yourselves — I had to,” was 
George’s selfish reply, as he gathered the last of his 
popped corn into his pocket, badly burning his fin- 
gers, in his anxiety lest his brother or sister should 
get hold of a kernel or two. 

Ella and Ralph commenced searching for the bag 
of corn, but they could not find it. They looked 
in every place where they supposed it might be, 
but in vain. Their mother had gone to bed with a 
sick headache, or they would have ascertained where 
it was from her. At length they gave up the search, 
and returned to the sitting-room, in no very pleasant 
frame of mind. 

“ I do declare, George,” said Ella, “ you are the 
meanest boy I ever heard of.” 

“ Why, what is the matter with George ?” inquired 
his grandmother. 

“He ’s been popping some of the corn you gave 
us,” replied Ella ; “ and he won’t give us a kernel 
of it, nor tell us where the bag is, so that we can 
pop some for ourselves.” 









BAD TEMPER. 


Ill 


“Why, George,” said Mrs. Lee, “that is too bad; 
I would tell them where the corn is, for I intended it 
as much for them as for you.” 

“ I don’t care,” said George ; “ they ’ve called me 
mean and stingy, and now they may find it for them- 
selves.” 

“ We did n’t call you mean and stingy till you 
refused to tell us where it was,” added Ella. 

“ If I could find it, I guess you would n’t get 
another kernel of it,” said Ralph, addressing George ; 
“ I ’d burn it all up first.” 

“ No, no, Ralph, that is wrong,” replied his grand- 
mother. “ The corn is n’t worth quarrelling about. 
If George wants to be selfish, and keep it all to him- 
self, I ’ll send down some more for the rest of you, 
when I go home. But I guess Georgie does n’t mean 
to be selfish,” she added, coaxingly ; “ he only wants 
to plague you a little, that ’s all. He ’ll tell you 
where he found the corn, pretty soon.” 

George, who was growing uneasy under this com 
lined attack, now retreated to bed, leaving his grand- 
mother more astonished than ever at his obstinacy. 

“ There,” said Alice, “ it ’s of no use to try to dri /e 


112 


george’s sickness. 


or coax him out of his selfishness. Mother says he ’ll 
outgrow it by-and*bye, but I don’t see as there is any 
prospect of it. You know what made him so selfish, 
don’t you, grandmother ?” 

“ I am afraid he has been humored too much,” re- 
plied Mrs. Lee. 

“ Well, he has been,” added Alice ; “ but you know 
when he was little, he was very sick for a whole year, 
and the doctor said he must n’t be crossed any more 
than we could help, for crying and fretting were very 
bad for him. So he had his own way in everything, 
and if we children had anything he wanted, we had to 
give it to him, and let him break it to pieces, for he 
would scream as loud as he could, if we refused him. 
This was the way he got to be so selfish ; and now he 
thinks we must humor him just as we did when he was 
sick.” 

“ There is some little excuse for him, if he fell into 
the habit when he was very young and sick,” observed 
Mrs. Lee ; “ but he is old enough and well enough now 
to know better, and ought to be broken of the fault.” 

“ Father and mother have tried to break him of it,” 
replied Alice, “ but they have not succeeded very well 


oscar’s dog. 


113 


yet. They have talked to him a good deal about it, 
but it does no good.” 

The next day, the children found the bag of corn, 
and their mother told George she should punish him 
for his selfishness by not letting him have any more of 
it. The corn was accordingly divided among the other 
children, and thus George, in trying to get more than 
his share, actually got less than the others did. 

It was about this time that Oscar came into posses- 
sion of the pup which Alfred Walton had promised him 
two or three weeks before. He at first had some diffi- 
culty in obtaining the consent of his mother to bring it 
home. She thought it would be troublesome, and tried 
to dissuade him from taking it ; but Oscar’s heart was 
so strongly set upon the dog, that she at length reluct- 
antly assented to its being admitted as an inmate of the 
family. 

Fastening a string to the neck of the dog, Oscar led 
him to his new home, where he received every atten- 
tion from the younger members of the family. Quite a 
grave discussion at once ensued, as to what the name 
of the new-comer should be. Each of the children had a 

favorite name to propose, but Oscar rejected them all, 
10 * 


114 


PORTRAIT OF TIGER. 



and said the dog should be called “Tiger;” and so that 
became his name, but it was usually abbreviated to 
“ Tige.” 

Tiger had grown very rapidly, and was now about 
twice as large as he was when Alfred promised Oscar 


one of his litter of pups. He was a handsome fellow, 
especially about the head, as you may see by his por- 
trait. At times, he looked as old and grave as his 
mother; but for all that, he was a great rogue, and 
there was very little dignity or soberness about him. 


HIS CHARACTER. 


115 


H ; was brim-full of fun, and would play with, anybody 
or anything that would allow him to take that liberty. 
He would amuse himself for hours with an old shoe or 
rag that he had found in the street, and it seemed as if 
he never would get tired of shaking, and tearing, and 
biting it. This disposition sometimes led him into mis- 
chief, in the house ; but he was always so happy, so 
good-natured and so affectionate, that it was difficult to 
blame him very hard for his misconduct. If Oscar’s 
grandmother happened to drop her ball of yarn, when 
Tige was about, he would seize it in an instant, and she 
would have to w r ork hard to get it away from him. 
She kept her work in a bag, which she usually hung 
upon the back of a chair ; but one day, the little rogue 
pulled the bag down upon the floor, and had its various 
contents scattered all about the room, before the old 
lady noticed what he was doing. 

These mischievous pranks were very amusing to Os 
car, and he set all the more by Tiger, on account of this 
trait in his character. The other members of the fami- 
ly, too, seemed to enjoy the sport he made ; and it was 
easy to see that even old Mrs. Lee, though she pretend- 
ed to be angry with the dog for his mischievousness, 




116 


A TRICK. 


was in reality pleased with the attentions he bestowed 
upon her and her knitting-work. 

Oscar’s grandmother usually retired to her chamber, 
soon after dinner, to take a short nap. One noon, after 
she had been scolding, with assumed gravity, about the 
dog’s mischievousness, Oscar thought he would play a 
joke upon the old lady ; so, on rising from the dinner- 
table, he carried Tiger up to her bed-room, and shut 
him in. He wanted to conceal himself somewhere, and 
witness the surprise of his grandmother, when she 
should open the door, and the dog should spring upon 
her ; but it was time to go to school, and he could not 
wait. 

It so happened that Mrs. Lee did not take her 
nap so early as usual that day. When she did go 
to her chamber, Tiger, impatient of his long con- 
finement, sprang out so quickly, that she did not 
observe him. But such a scene as met her gaze 
on entering the chamber ! The first thing that 
caught her eye, was her best black bonnet lying 
upon the floor, all crumpled up and torn into shreds, 
looking as though it had been used for a football 
by a parcel of boys. She entered the room, and 




SAD WORK. 


117 


found a dress upon the floor, with numerous marks 
of rough handling upon it ; while towels and other 
articles were scattered about in confusion. The cloth 
upon the dressing-table had been pulled off, and the 
articles that were kept upon it were lying upon the 
floor, including a handsome vase, which, in the fall, 
had been shattered to pieces. There was in the 
chamber a stuffed easy-chair, the covering of which 
was of worsted-work, wrought by Mrs. Preston when 
she was a young girl. This chair, which was highly 
valued as a relic of the past, was also badly injured. 
A part of the needle-work, which had cost so many 
hours of patient toil, was torn in every direction, 
and some of the hair, with which the cushion was 
stuffed, was pulled out, and scattered about the 
floor. 

As soon as Mrs. Lee had fully comprehended the 
extent of the mischief, she went to the stair-way, 
and called her daughter. A glance satisfied Mrs. 
Preston that Tiger must have been there ; and she 
was confirmed in this belief by Bridget, who re- 
membered that the dog came down into the kitchen, 
just after Mrs. Lee went up. But they could not 


118 


oscar’s falsehood. 


tell how the little rogue got shut into the room. 
They concluded, however, that some of the children 
did it hy accident, or that the dog slipped in un per- 
ceived when Mrs. Lee came out from the chamber 
before dinner. 

Oscar did not go directly home from school, but 
as soon as he entered the house, he learned what 
Tiger had done, from the other children. He felt 
sorry that what he intended as a harmless joke, 
should end in so serious a matter; but he deter- 
mined that no one should know he had a hand in 
it, if he could prevent it. He regretted the destruc- 
tion of property, but this feeling did not cause him 
so much uneasiness as his fear of losing his dog in 
consequence of this bad afternoon’s work. His 
mother, as soon as she saw him, inquired if he had 
been to his grandmother’s chamber that noon. He 
replied that he had not. She inquired if he let 
Tiger into it, and he answered in the negative. His 
mother questioned him still further, but he denied 
all knowledge of the matter. 

It was not very hard work for Oscar to tell a lie, 
now, for practice makes easy. He could do it, too, 


DISOBEDIENCE. 


119 


in such a plausible and seemingly innocent way, that 
it was difficult to believe he was deceiving you. His 
falsehoods, in this instance, were readily believed; 
and as all the other children denied having any 
knowledge of the affair, it was the general conclusion 
that Tiger must have obtained admittance to the 
chamber accidentally and unperceived. 

When Mr. Preston came home to tea, and saw 
what the dog had done, he was very angry with poor 
Tiger, and told Oscar he must sell him or give him 
away, for he would not have such a mischievous an- 
imal about the house another day. A day or two 
after, Mrs. Preston replaced the articles belonging 
to her mother that had been injured, and the ex- 
citement about the dog soon died away. Oscar 
did not try to get rid of his pet ; but he was careful 
not to let him stay in the house much of the time, 
especially when his father was at home. 

“ Oscar,” said his grandmother a day or two after, 
as he came into the kitchen with Tiger, “I thought 
your father told you he would n’t have that dog 
around here any more.” 

“0, he didn’t mean so,” replied Oscar; “he was 


120 


A COLLISION. 


mad when he said that, but he ’s got over it now. 
Besides, I don’t let Tige stay in the house much.” 

“ A good dale ye cares for w r hat yer father says,” 
remarked Bridget, who was never backward about 
putting in a word, when Oscar’s delinquencies were 
the subject of conversation. 

“ You shut up, Bridget, — nobody spoke to you,” re- 
plied Oscar. 

“Shet up, did ye say? Faith, if ye don’t git shet up 
yerself where ye won’t git out in a hurry, afore ye ’re 
many years older, it ’ll be because ye don’t git yer 
desarts. Ye ’re a bad b’y, that ye are, an’ — ” 

‘‘There, there, Biddy,” interrupted Mrs. Lee, “I 
would n’t say anything more — it only aggravates him, 
and does no good. But, Oscar,” she added, “ I ’m 
sorry you don’t pay more attention to what your father 
says. It ’s a bad habit to get into. I knew a disobe- 
dient boy, once, who came to the gallows ; and I ’ve 
known several others who made very bad men.” 

“ But you don’t call me disobedient, do you, grand- 
ma’am ?” inquired Oscar. 

“I don’t know what else to call it,” she replied, “if 
your father tells you to do a thing, and you take no no- 
tice of it.” 


MRS. lee’s departure. 121 

“ But father does n’t want me to give Tige away — 
I don’t believe he ’s thought of it again since that 
night.” 

“ Then, if I were you,” replied his grandmother, “ I 
would ask his consent to keep the dog. If he did n’t 
mean what he said, that night, you will be safe enough 
in asking him.” 

But this w^s a kind of reasoning that Oscar could 
not appreciate. If he could carry his point just as well 
without his father’s formal consent, he thought it was 
useless to ask any such favor. As long as he could 
keep his dog, it was all the same to him whether his 
father withdrew his command, or silently acquiesced in 
his disobedience of it. 

But grandmother Lee’s visit was drawing to a close, 
and early one bright, cool morning, in the latter part 
of December, the coach called, to take her to the rail- 
road depot ; and after a few kisses, and words of affec- 
tionate advice, and lingering good-byes, she departed on 
her homeward journey. Of those she left behind, next 
to her own daughter, the saddest of the group was little 
Ella, who, for many days, missed the pleasant face of 

her good old grandmother. • 

11 


CHAPTER IX. 


.WINTER SPORTS. 

JT was now mid-winter, and a few inches of snow 
lay upon the frozen ground, sufficient to make 
pretty fair sleighing for a few days, and to afford 
good coasting for the boys on the hill-sides. The 
favorite place for this amusement, among the boys 
in Oscar’s neighborhood, was the Common. Here 
they always found good, long, smooth coasting- 
places, when there was any snow on the ground ; 
and there was no danger of tripping up foot pas- 
sengers, or getting under the heels of the horses, 
or being tapped on the shoulder by a policeman, 
which often happened to boys who coasted down 
the steep streets of the city, — a practice, by the 
way, prohibited by a city law. 

Oscar had a handsome new sled, which was a 
new year’s present from his father. It was long 


THE CLIPPER. 


123 


and narrow, the two steel-shod runners projecting 
forward far beyond the top or seat, and ending in 
sharp points. It was painted light blue, and var- 
nished. Upon the sides, in gilt letters, was its 
name — Clipper ; and upon its top it bore the initial 
of Oscar’s name, with an ornamental device. It had 
what a sailor would call a decidedly rakish look, 
and was really a fast as well as a stylish “ team,” to 
use the term by which Oscar usually spoke of it It 
even eclipsed George’s small but elegant sled, which, 
the winter previous, had been regarded as the ne 
plus ultra of sled architecture. 

Ralph’s sled, by the side of these, presented a very 
cheap and antiquated appearance, and it was seldom 
that he took it with him to the Common. He often 
borrowed Oscar’s, however, when it was not in use * 
for his elder brother, with all his faults, was not 
selfish boy, but was willing to lend his property to 
others, when he was not using it himself. One 
pleasant Wednesday afternoon, a portion of the week 
always devoted to recreation by the Boston school 
children, Ralph obtained leave to take the “ Clipper” 
with him to the Common. George also went with 


124 


COASTING SCENE. 


him with his sled. The coasting is very good, and 
some hundreds of boys are enjoying it. Long lines 
of sleds, freighted with from one to three or four 
juveniles, are dashing down in various directions 
from the Beacon Street mall ; and an odd collection 
of juveniles and sleds it is, too. There comes a 
chubby, red-faced lad, with his exact counterpart, 
on a smaller scale, clinging on behind him with 
one hand, and swinging his cap with the other. Their 
sled is called the “ Post-Boy,” and it seems to “ carry 
the male very expeditiously. Close at their heels 
is a pale, poetic youth, lightly skimming over the 
inclined plane upon a delicate craft that looks like 
himself, and which he calls the “ Mystery.” Here 
comes a rude, unpainted sled, with two rough but 
merry youngsters lying prone upon it, one over 
the other, and their heels working up and down 
in the air in a most lively manner. Anon goes 
by an aristocratic-looking craft, bearing upon it a 
sleek and well-dressed boy, whose appearance speaks 
of wealth, indulgence, and ease. His sled is appro- 
priately named the “ Pet;” but in gliding down 
the icy track it strikes a tree, and its pampered 


A COLLISION. 


125 


owner is sent sprawling upon his back, in a very 
undignified way, while his “ Pet” gives him the 
slip and soon finds the bottom of the hill. Poor 
fellow ! we wonder if this is an omen of what is 
to befall him in sliding down the hill of life. And 
here comes the “ Clipper” itself, with our Ralph 
seated proudly upon it, and apparently enjoying the 
fleet and beautiful sled as much as though it were 
really his own. And there, too, comes George, with 
his pretty “ Snow Flake ;” and close behind him are 
the “ Tempest,” and the “ Yankee Doodle,” and the 
“ Screamer,” and the “ Snow ball,” and the “ Nelly,” 
and the “ Racer,” and a host of other craft, of every 
imaginable appearance, and strided by all sorts of boys. 

Ralph and George spent an hour or two upon the 
Common. Nothing occurred to mar their pleasure till 
just before they started for home, when Ralph met with 
an adventure that sadly ruffled his temper. He was 
descending the hill upon his sled, when another craft, 
having two boys upon it larger than himself, managed 
to run into him. The “ Clipper” being lightly loaded, 
the other sled descended with greater impetus ; and the 

force of the collision, together with a vigorous kick from 

11 * 


126 


DAMAGES SUSTAINED. 


the stout boots of one of the boys, overturned Ralph 
upon the steepest part of the hill. He quickly picked 
himself up, and, forgetful of self, his first care was to 
see whether Oscar’s sled had sustained any damage. 
When he beheld the marks of the rough encounter, in 
the form of sundry ugly scratches upon the polished 
sides of tlie “ Clipper,” the tears came in his eyes ; and 
it was some time before he noticed that he himself bore 
upon his hands and knees several unmistakable tokens 
of the collision. 

Ralph knew very well that the collision was not acci- 
dental. The kick of the boy who guided the sled, and 
the hearty laugh of both its occupants, when Ralph was 
overturned, satisfied him that he had been run down 
purposely. He did not know the names of the boys, 
having only met them occasionally on the Common. 
They soon came along again, on their way up the hill, 
and Ralph asked the owner of the sled why he run him 
down. 

u Because you got in our way,” replied the boy. 

“Ho, I did n’t,” said Ralph; “there was room 
enough for you to go by, but you steered out of your 
course, and gave my sled a kick, too.” 


INSOLENCE. 


127 


“ Don’t you tell me I lie, you little snipper-snapper,” 
inswered the boy “or I ’ll put you in my pocket, and 
carry you off.” 

“ See what you did,” continued Ralph, pointing to 
the scratches on the “ Clipper “ I should n’t care any- 
thing about it, but the sled is n’t mine. I borrowed it 
of my brother, and it had n’t a scratch on it when I 
took it.” 

“ Pooh,’’ said the other boy, “ that does n’t hurt it 
any. I ’ll be bound it will be scratched worse than 
that, before the winter ’s over. If you get in my way 
with it again, I shall serve it worse than I did this 
time.” 

The boys passed on their way, and Ralph and 
George, whose “fun” had been’ thus suddenly and un- 
justly spoiled by their insolent and domineering com- 
panions, concluded to return home. Poor Ralph dread- 
ed to meet Oscar ; but yet he hunted him up, as soon 
as he got home, and told him what had befallen the 
beautiful sled. Oscar was very angry when he heard 
the story, but he generously acquitted his brother of all 
blame in the matter, and declared that he would pay 
back the boy who had thus taken advantage of his 


128 


oscar’s revenge. 


weakness. He knew the offender, from Ralph’s de- 
scription, and from the name of liis sled, which was the 
“ Corsair.” He even proposed to go directly to the 
Common, and settle the account at once ; but Ralph, in 
whose heart revenge held a very small place, persuaded 
him out of the notion. 

. But Oscar, unlike Ralph, was not the boy to forget 
or forgive an injury. A day or two after the occur- 
rence just related, while coasting on the Common, he 
fell in with the boy who run into his brother. Keeping 
his eye upon him until he could catch him a little aside 
from the other boys, when the favorable moment came, 
he suddenly dealt him a severe blow, which nearly 
knocked him over, accompanying it with the remark : 

“ There, take that for running down my little-brother, 
when he was coasting with my sled, the other day.” 

The other boy, without saying a word, sprang at Os- 
car, and, for a moment or two, blows and kicks were 
freely exchanged. But though they were about of a 
size, it was evident that Oscar was the stronger or most 
resolute of the two, and his antagonist soon gave up 
the contest, but not until he had been pretty roughly 
handled. Other boys soon came flocking around, to 


SKATING. 


129 


whom Oscar explained the cause of the assault ; but his 
antagonist denied all knowledge of the affair for which 
Oscar had attacked him. An angry war of words en- 
sued, but the excitement finally subsided without any 
further resort to blows, and Oscar returned home, well 
pleased with his adventure. 

One of Oscar’s favorite winter amusements was ska- 
ting. Early in winter, as soon as the little pond on the 
Common was frozen over, he might be seen gliding 
over the smooth ice ; but later in the season, when there 
was good skating on “Back Bay,” he preferred that' 
locality, because of its greater extent. Tiger usually ac- 
companied him in his skating excursions, and seemed 
to enjoy the sport as much as his master did. It was 
amusing to see him try to make a short turn, in run- 
ning upon the ice. He would slide some distance be- 
fore he could change his course. Oscar would often 
plague him, when he was in full chase after his master, 
by suddenly turning upon his skates, and taking a con- 
trary direction, leaving Tiger to get back as he could. 

But an event happened, one day, that almost wholly 
cured Tiger of his fondness for this kind of sport. He 
was gaily tripping over the ice, by the side of his young 


130 


tiger’s cold bath. 


master, when the latter suddenly turned about, and 
Tiger, in his haste to follow him, slid directly into an 
air-hole. This was probably the first time he had en- 
joyed so extensive a cold bath ; and as he was not a 
water-dog, it is not surprising that he was terribly 
frightened. His piteous cries brought Oscar to his re- 
lief, who could not help laughing at the sorry plight in 
which he found his half-drowned canine friend. He 
was floundering and paddling about in the water, now 
lifting himself almost out, upon the edge of the ice, and 
now slipping off again, and 'plumping over-head in the 
uncomfortable element; his intelligent countenance, in 
the meantime, wearing the impress of despair. But 
Oscar soon helped him from his disagreeable position. 
Finding himself on his legs again, he did not resume 
his sport ; but, shivering with cold, and dripping with 
water, almost at the freezing point, and with his head 
hanging downward, and his tail drooping between his 
legs, he started towards home — a wiser and a sadder 
dog. 

When Oscar got home, he found the family some- 
what alarmed for his own safety. Tiger had arrived 
some time before, and as it was evident that he had 


AIR-HOLES. 


131 


been overboard, and as he was known to have gone 
off with his master, Mrs. Preston felt some anxiety, not 
knowing but that both Oscar and the dog had broken 
through the ice. But his arrival dispelled all fears, 
and his account of Tiger’s misfortune served to amuse 
the children for the rest of the day. As for Tiger him- 
self, he seemed heartily ashamed of the part he had 
played, and could hardly be persuaded to leave the 
chimney-corner for a moment, or even to look up, when 
the children inquired for his health. 

“ I don’t see what good air-holes do. I wonder 
if anybody knows what they are for,” exclaimed 
Ralph, as the children and their mother were 
seated around the sitting-room table in the even- 
ing. 

“They are traps set to catch skaters, I suppose,” 
said Oscar. 

% 

“ And dogs,” added Ella. 

“But don’t you know what they are for, Alice?” 
continued Ralph. 

“Yes,” replied Alice, who had studied natural 
philosophy at school, “they are the breathing holes 
of the fishes. Fishes can’t live without air, any 


132 


WHAT MAKES AIR-HOLES. 


better than we can ; and a pond or river frozen over 
solid, without any air-holes, would be as bad for 
them as a room from which all fresh air was shut 
out would be to us. You can sometimes catch fish 
very easily by cutting a hole in the ice, for if they 
feel the need of air, they will rush right up to the 
opening.” 

“ But how are the air-holes made V' inquired 
Ralph. 

“ I believe,” replied Alice, “ that they are gener- 
ally made by springs that bubble up from the bot- 
tom. These springs come from the earth, and the 
water is so warm that it gradually thaws the ice 
over them. The fish often finish the process by 
jumping up through the ice before it has entirely 
melted. When the cold is very intense, and these 
springs have frozen up, some of the water is ab- 
sorbed by the earth, which leaves a vacuum or 
empty space between the ice and the water; and 
then the ice gives way under the weight of the at- 
mosphere, and air is admitted into the water be- 
neath ” 

“ Well, I ’m glad air-holes are good for something,” 


TIGER A WISER DOG. 


133 


said Oscar ; “ they ’re troublesome enough to skaters. 
Jim Anderson skated right into one the other day, 
and came pretty near getting drowned. But I always 
keep my eyes open for them. I never got into one 
yet.” 

“ You cannot be too careful when you are on the 
ice,” remarked Mrs. Preston. “I felt so uneasy, that 
I was just going to send Ralph in search of yon, 
when you got home.” 

After that day it required considerable coaxing to 
induce Tiger to go upon the boys’ skating-ground. 
He manifested a decided preference to remain upon 
the shore, and look on ; and when he did venture to 
accompany his master, he kept close by his side, and 
travelled over the treacherous ice with a degree of 
circumspection, which said very plainly, “ You won’t 
catch me in that scrape again, master Oscar !” 

But there was nothing that the boys enjoyed more 
at this season of the year, than a real good snow- 
storm. Such a storm they were favored with during 
this month. It came on in the evening, and the next 
morning, when they arose, their basement windows 

were more than half buried up in snow, and the 
12 


134 


THE SNOW-STORM. 


drifts, in some places, were higher than Oscar’s 
head. The streets were deserted and almost impass- 
able. Thick ciusts of snow hung over the roofs 
of the long blocks of houses ; while the blinds, win- 
dows, doors and balustrades were heavily trimmed 
with the same delicate material. The huge banks 
which stretched themselves along the street and side- 
walk, were as yet undisturbed ; for the few passers-by 
had been glad to pick their way through the valleys. 
The wind roared and piped among the chimneys 
and house-tops, and whisked through narrow pass- 
age-ways, and whistled through the smallest cracks 
and crevices, in its merriest and busiest mood. Now 
it would scoop up a cloud of snow from the street, 
and bear it up far above the house-tops, and then it 
would repay the debt by gathering a fleecy wreath 
from some neighboring roof, and sweeping it into 
the street beneath. The storm still continued with 
unabated severity, and the air was so full of snow, 
that one could hardly see the length of the street. 

After a hasty breakfast, the boys tucked the bot 
toms of their trowsers into their boots, and sallied 
forth, to explore the half-buried streets. And now 


A JOB FOR OSCAR. 


135 


the light snow-balls began to fly thick and fast, and 
every few moments, one and another would measure 
his full length in some deep drift, which for a mo- 
ment almost buried him from sight. Tiger, who 

accompanied them, entered fully into the sport, and 

% 

very good-naturedly received his share of the snow- 
balls and snow-baths. But their exercise was too 
violent to be continued a great while. They soon 
returned home, coated with snow from head to heel, 
and the cheeks of the boys glowing with health and 
enjoyment. 

“ After you get rested, Oscar,” said Mr. Preston, who 
was just leaving for the store, “ I want you to shovel a 
path in front of the house.” 

“What is the use?” inquired Oscar. “The storm 
is n’t over yet, and if I make a path, it will fill right 
up again.” 

“No it won’t,” replied his father. “I don’t think it 
will storm much longer ; and the snow is so light, now, 
that you can shovel it easily, but if you leave it till 
noon, it may be trodden down hard. You need not 
clean off the whole side-walk now ; only make a com- 


136 


SHOVELING SNOW. 


fortable passage-way, and perhaps I will help you finish 
the job at night.” 

Oscar still thought it would be a waste of labor to 
shovel a path then, and he did not evince any haste in 

obeying his father’s order. After loitering about the 

# 

house a long time, he took the shovel, and worked 
lazily at the path for awhile. Although he only under- 
took to cut a narrow passage-way through the drift in 
front of the house, he worked with so little spirit, 
that when the time came for him to get ready for 
school, he had not half completed the task. He asked 
permission to stay at home and finish his path, but his 
mother did not think this necessary, and refused her 
consent. So he went to school, and in the meantime 
the storm died away, and the clouds dispersed. 

Towards noon the door-bell rang, and on Bridget 
going to answer it, a little printed paper was handed 
to her, directing the occupant of the house to have the 
snow removed from his sidewalk within a given num- 
ber of hours. After school, Oscar thought no more 
of his path, but went off with Alfred Walton, and did 
not go home until dinner-time. He had but little 
time now to shovel snow ; but his father told him to 


ICY SIDEWALKS. 


137 


be sure and come home directly from school, in the 
afternoon, and not to play or do anything else until 
the sidewalk was cleared off. 

Oscar accordingly went home after school, and re- 
sumed his work. He found that the snow was trodden 
into such a solid icy mass, that an axe was necessary 
to cut it up in some places. He was not the boy to 
hurt himself with hard labor, and although he kept his 
shovel at work in a leisurely way, he did not accom- 
plish much, except the removal of a little snow that 
had not got trodden down. Wearied at length with 
his feeble and fruitless efforts, he returned into the 
house, saying to his mother : 

“ There, I can’t get the snow off the sidewalk, and 
it’s of no use to try. It’s trodden down just as hard 
as ice. Besides, if I should shovel it all off, there will 
be an avalanche from the top of the house to-night, 
that will bury the sidewalk all up again. The snow is 
sliding off the roofs, all around here ; — have n’t you 
heard it, mother ?” 

“ Yes, I thought I heard it,” replied Mrs. Preston ; 

“ but if you can’t get the snow off the sidewalk, you 

had better speak to your father about it, when he 
12 * 




138 


EXCUSES 


comes home, and perhaps he will help you, or hire 
somebody to do it for you. It must be got off as soon 
as possible, for the police have notified us to attend to it.” 

In spite of this advice, Oscar neglected to speak to 
his father in regard to the matter, and no one else hap- 
pening to think of it, nothing was said about it. The 
next morning, he chopped away upon the ice a little 
while, but getting tired of it, he soon abandoned the 
job, and went to play. When Mr. Preston came home 
to dinner, an unusual cloud was on his brow ; and as 
soon as Oscar came in, the cause was explained. 

“ Oscar,” he said, “ why did you not shovel the snow 
from the sidewalk, as I told you to, yesterday morning ?” 

“ I tried to,” replied Oscar ; “ but it was trodden down 
so hard, I could n’t get it off.” 

“ But you should have done it before it got hard- 
ened. ^ I told you to clear a passage-way, yesterday morn- 
ing. That would have saved the rest from getting trod 
down, and at noon you could have finished the job. 
Why did you not do as I told you to ?” 

“ I did begin to make a path,” replied Oscar ; “ but 
I did n’t have time to finish it, and when I got home 
from school, the snow was all trodden down hard.” 


THE 1 ASK COMPLETED. 1&> 

“ Did n’t have time f” said his father ; “ what do you 
tell me such a story as that for? You could have 
made all the path that was necessary in fifteen or 
twenty minutes, if you had been disposed to do it. 
By neglecting to obey me, you have got me into a 
pretty scrape. I have had to go before the Police 
Court, this forenoon, and pay a fine and costs, amount- 
ing to over five dollars, for your negligence and dis- 
obedience. And now,” he added, “ you may try once 
more, and see if you can do as I tell you to. As soon 
as you have done dinner, take the hatchet and shovel, 
and go to work upon the sidewalk; and don’t you 
leave it until the ice is all cleared off. As sure as you 
do, I will dust your jacket for you when I come home 
to-night, so that you will not forget it for one while.” 

Oscar thought it best to obey his father this time. 
It being Saturday, school did not keep, in the after- 
noon, and he had ample time to complete the task, 
although it was time which he intended to spend in a 
lifferent way. Ralph, however, volunteered his assist- 
ance, and before the middle of the afternoon, the task 
was finished. 


CHAPTER X. 


APPEARANCES. 

rjlHOSE who impose upon the weak, sometimes get 
punished for their meanness in an unexpected man- 
ner. This truth was very effectually impressed upon 
Oscar, one March morning, as he was going to school. 
The streets were in a very bad condition, being several 
inches deep with a compound of snow, water, and mud, 
familiarly known as “slosh.” Just before reaching the 
school-house, he overtook two little boys with a sled, 
and throwing himself upon it, he compelled them to 
drag him along. It was hard sledding, and the boys 
naturally objected to drawing such a heavy load ; but 
Oscar kept his seat, and compelled them to go on. 
For a few minutes, he rode along very quietly, although 
his span of youngsters, who were continually muttering 
to themselves, did not seem to enjoy the sport as well 
as he did. But, by a dexterous movement, they soon 


THE OVERTURN. 


141 


balanced the debtor and creditor account. Giving the sled 
a sudden jerk and lurch, in one of the sloppiest places 
they had met with, their lazy passenger was thrown 
backward into the mud, and imprinted a full-length 



picture of himself in the yielding material. The inci- 
dent happened almost in front of the school-house, and 
as Oscar rose from the mud, he was greeted by th* 


142 


A SAD PLIGHT. 


shouts and laughter of a hundred boys who witnessed 
the scene. Several men, also, who were passing at 
the time, joined in the laughing chorus ; and one, who 
had observed the whole affair from the beginning, told 
Oscar the boys had served him just right. 

Ralph came to the relief of bis brother, and having 
wiped off as much of the mud and water from his back 
as he could, with a handkerchief, Oscar started for 
home, wet to his skin. He was keenly sensitive to any 
mortification of this kind, and it was a bitter pill for 
him to appear in the crowded streets in such a plight. 
He imagined everybody he met or overtook was star- 
ing at him, and laughing at the figure he cut, and he 
wanted to hide his face from their sight. He never 
went home from school so fast before ; but when he had 
changed his dress, and washed the dirt from his hands 
and face, it was too late to return. In the afternoon, 
when he made his appearance at school, he was quite 
generally greeted with the significant nickname of 
“ Stick-in-the-mud,” and had to stand a most remorse- 
less fire of wit, pleasantry, and ridicule the rest of the 
day, both at home and in the street. 

Oscar thought quite as much as was proper of out- 


THE PATCHED JACKET. 


143 


ward appearances. He was commendably neat in his 
personal habits, and was seldom caught with dirty 
hands and face, or uncombed hair, or soiled and ragged 
dress. He loved to dress well, too, and no amount of 
persuasion could induce him to wear a garment, if he 
fancied it did not set right, or was much out of fashion, 
or had an old and patched-up look. In such a case, 
nothing but the stern arm of authority was sufficient 
to overcome his prejudices. 

“ There,” said his mother one evening, after spending 
some time over one of his jackets, which had become a 
little worn at the elbows ; “ there, that will last you a 
spell longer, and look almost as well as it ever did, 
too.” 

Oscar examined the garment. It was neatly mend- 
ed, and looked very well ; but -his eye rested upon a 
slight patch upon one of the elbows, which entirely 
spoilt it for him, although it had previously been a 
favorite garment. 

“ It ’s too small for me,” he said ; “ why can’t you 
keep it for Ralph?” 

“Ho, you needn’t keep it for Ralph,” quickly re- 
plied the owner of that name; “I haven’t had any- 


144 


BEN. WR I G H T . 


thing but your old clothes to wear for a year or two, 
and I should think it was my turn to have some of 
the new ones, now. Make him wear that out, mother, 
won’t you ?” 

“ Yes, I intend he shall wear it awhile longer,” re- 
plied Mrs. Preston. “It looks well enough for any 
body.” 

“ But see that detestable patch,” said Oscar ; “ I 
don’t want to wear that to school ; folks will think I 
have borrowed one of Ben. Wright's old jackets.” 

Ben. Wright was one of Oscar’s schoolmates. He 
was the son of a poor widow, and was the most be- 
patched boy in Oscar’s class, at the head of which he 
stood. As he had nothing to recommend him but 
fine scholarship, exemplary deportment, and a good 
character, in school and-out, he was a boy of little con- 
sequence in the eyes of Oscar. 

“ I wish you were worthy to wear one of Benny’s 
old jackets,” replied Mrs. Preston. “ If you were half 
as good a boy as he is, I would not complain. But 
you need not be afraid that anybody will mistake you 
for him, even if you do wear a patched garment.” 

“ I believe you think Ben. Wright is a little angel,” 


AN OMINOUS NOD. 


145 


said Oscar, who never liked to hear his humble but 
diligent classmate praised. 

“ I think he has some traits that you would do well 
to imitate,” replied his mother. 

“ I shall think I am imitating him, when I get that 
thing on,” added Oscar, in a contemptuous manner, 
alluding to the jacket. 

“ There, that will do, Oscar,” replied Mrs. Preston. 
“ You Ve said enough about the jacket ; don’t let me 
hear another word of complaint. I took a great deal 
of pains to mend it neatly, and it looks well enough 
for you or any other boy. You may put it on to-mor- 
row morning, and don’t you leave off wearing it till I 
tell you to.” 

Oscar nodded his head in a way that seemed to say, 
“ You ’ll see how long I wear it but his mother did 
not observe the motion. He had a short and easy way 
of getting rid of garments that he disliked. Somehow 
or other they were sure to waste away in a much faster 
manner than those he had a fancy for ; or, perhaps, 
they w T ould be rendered suddenly useless, by some mys- 
terious accident. But he would never admit that their 
13 


146 


A WATCH WANTED. 


period of usefulness had been purposely shortened, though 
suspicions of this kind were occasionally hinted. 

Soon after this, Mr. Preston entered the room, and 
took a seat by, the fire He pulled out his watch to 
wind it up, as was his custom just before bed-time 
when Oscar said : 

“ Father, I wish you would buy me a watch. Frank 
King, and Bill Andrews, and Charlie Grant, and almost 
all the large boys that I know, have got watches, and I 
should think I might have one too ; why can’t I, 
father ?” 

“ What do they do with watches ?” inquired Mr. 
Preston. 

“ Why, what does anybody do with them ? They 
carry them to tell the time of day, of course,” replied 
Oscar. 

“ And to make a display of watch-chain,” added his 
father. 

“ No, that is n’t it,” replied Oscar ; “ but it ’s real 
convenient to have a watch with you. You don’t 
know how I ’m plagued to tell what time it is, some- 
times. It would make me a good deal more punc- 
tual, if I had one. I was late to school this morning, 


PUNCTUALITY. 


147 


but it was n’t my fault, for I did n’t lmow what time 
it was until I got to the school-house, and found that 
the boys had all gone in.” 

“ When I was of your age,” said Mr. Preston, “ boys 
never thought of carrying watches, and yet they were 
taught to be as punctual as the clock, in their attend- 
ance at school. If I had been tardy, and tried to ex- 
cuse myself by saying that I had no watch, I should 
have got laughed at by the whole school. But where 
were you this morning, that you did not know when it 
was school-time ?” 

“ Over to Alf. Walton’s.” 

“ And could n’t find a time-piece about the prem- 
ises ?” 

“ Why — no — I — forgot — ” replied Oscar, somewhat 
embarrassed by the question. 

“Just as I supposed,” added his father; “you got 
along with that boy, and forgot all about your school ; 
and it would have been just the same, if you’d had 
half a dozen watches in your pocket.” 

“ O no, father,” said Oscar ; “ for if I ’d had a watch 
about me, I should have looked at it.” 

“ Well,” added Mr. Preston, “ if you don’t care enough 


f 


148 


APPEARANCES. 


about punctuality to take a little trouble to ascertain 
what time it is, when you have an engagement, I 
don’t think a watch would help you any in acquiring 
the habit. You have n’t made out a very strong case.” 

“ H o,” remarked Mrs. Preston, “ he wants a watch 
for show, and not punctuality, — that’s plain enough. 
He has just been making a great fuss because I put 
a little bit of a patch on the elbow of his jacket. He 
is getting to be quite fastidious, for a gentleman of his 
size.” 

“ If you would think a little less of outside appear- 
ances, Oscar,” continued his father, “ and a little more 
of inward character, your judgment of men and things 
would not be quite so much at fault as it is now. If 
you judge of boys or men by the cloth and watches 
they wear, and select your companions accordingly, 
you will soon find that you have got a pretty set of 
friends. And so, too, if you think you can secure the 
good opinion and respect of the world, merely by dress- 
ing well, you are greatly mistaken. You must learn 
to judge people by their characters, and not by their 
dress or appearance. If I could see you trying to form 
a good character, I should care very little what sort 


AN OFFER. 


149 


of garments you wore. I would buy you a watch, or 
anything else in my power, if it would only make you 
behave better. In fact, I will make you a handsome 
offer now, if you wish.” 

“ Well, what is it ?” inquired Oscar. 

“ I will agree to give you a nice watch, in six months 
from this time, if you will do three things,” continued 
his father. 

u What are they ?” inquired Oscar ; “ are they things 
that I can do ?” 

“ Certainly,” said Mr. Preston ; “ you can do them 
if you will only try. The first is, that you render 
prompt obedience to your parents, during these six 
months. Is n’t that within your power ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Oscar, somewhat reluctantly. 

u The second is,” continued Mr. Preston, “ that you 
behave toward your playmates and all other people 
in such a way, that no serious complaint shall be made 
against you. Can you do that, if you try ?” 

“ Yes, sir, I guess so,” replied Oscar. 

“ And the last condition is, that you give sufficient 
attention to your studies to gain admission to the High 

School, at the end of the term. Is that in your power ?” 
13 * 


150 


A DILEMMA. 


“ I suppose it is,” said Oscar. 

“You admit, then, that you can keep these con- 
ditions,” continued his father ; “ the question now is, 
will you do it ?” 

That was a hard question for Oscar to answer. He 
hesitated, and twisted about in his chair, and at length 
replied : 

“ Why, I don’t suppose I should make out, if I tried.” 

“ Ho, you certainly would not, if that is your spirit,” 
replied his father. You cannot accomplish anything 
unless you have some confidence that you can do it, 
and firmly resolve to try. You just admitted that 
you could keep these conditions, but it seems you are 
not willing to make the attempt. You want a watch, 
but you don’t intend to obey your parents, or to con 
duct yourself properly, or to attend to your lessons, 
for the sake of getting it — that ’s what you mean to 
say, is it not ?” 

Oscar remained silent. 

“ I am sorry,” continued his father, “ that you will 
not take up with my offer ; for though I do not think 
it important that you should get the watch, it is im- 
portant that you should reform some of your habits. 


THE HIGH SCHOOL. 


151 


You are getting to be altogether too wayward and 
headstrong, as well as vain.” 

“ If I get into the High School next summer, may I 
have the watch ?” inquired Oscar. 

“ Ho,” replied his father, “ not unless you comply 
with the other conditions. But I want you to remem- 
ber what I told you the other day, that if you don't get 
into the High School at that time, I shall send you to 
some boarding-school away from home, where you will 
be made to study, and to behave yourself too. If strict 
discipline can do anything for you, you shall have the 
benefit of it, you may depend upon that.” 

Oscar was now two-thirds of the way through his last 
year in the school he attended. His parents were anx- 
ious that he should go through the High School course 
of studies, and, indeed, he had applied for admission to 
that school the summer previous to this, but did not 
pass the examination. There was still some doubt 
whether he would succeed any better at the next ex- 
amination ; and in case of his failure, his parents had 
decided to send him to a boarding-school in the coun- 
try. But there was nothing very alarming to him in 
the idea of going into such an establishment, not with- 


152 


oscar’s indifference. 


standing all his father said of the strict discipline to 
which he would be subjected. There would be a nov- 
elty about it, he imagined, that would make it quite 
pleasant. Consequently, he cared very little whether 
he was accepted as a High School pupil or not. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE MORAL LESSON. 

QSGAR had the name among his fellows of being 
a shrewd and sharp boy at a bargain ; and, like too 
many men who have acquired a similar reputation, he 
was not over-scrupulous in his manner of conducting his 
business operations. If he could drive a profitable 
trade, it mattered little how he did it ; and if somebody 
else lost as much as he gained by the bargain, that was 
not his business ; every one must look out for "himself. 
So he reasoned, and so constantly did he act on this 
principle, that, to tell the trutfr, his integrity was by 
no means unimpeachable among his comrades. It was 
a very general opinion, that in many of their boyish 
games, such as marbles, he would cheat if he could get 
a chance ; and the notion was equally prevalent, that in 
a bargain, he was pretty sure to get decidedly the best 
end. 


154 


THE DOG-COLLAR. 


Oscar was very desirous that his dog Tiger should 
wear a brass collar, by way of ornament and distinction. 
All other respectable dogs bore upon their necks this 
badge of ownership, and he thought it highly import- 
ant that Tiger should be on a good footing with his 
canine friends. But how to get the collar, was the 
question that perplexed him. He had asked his father 
to buy it, and met with a flat refusal. He had even 
called at several shops, and inquired the price of the 
coveted article, but it was hopelessly beyond his means. 
The subject lay heavily upon his mind for several days, 
for when he took a notion that he wanted a thing, it 
was hard to reason or drive him out of it. His thoughts 
and his dreams were of brass dog-collars, and his talk 
among his companions run upon the same theme. At 
length, while prosecuting his inquiries, he happened to 
learn that a little boy^who attended his school, owned 
just such a collar as he wanted, and had no dog to 
wear it. Here was a chance for a speculation. Oscar 
lost no time in seeing this boy, and in getting his low- 
est price for the collar, which was fifty cents. This 
was much less than the price at the shops, and Oscar 
thought his father might be induced, by this fact, to 


A FRAUD. 


155 


let him have the money to purchase it; but Mr. Pres- 
ton did not think Tiger needed any such appendage, 
and Oscar’s request was again denied. 

Oscar now set his wits to work to devise a way of 
buying the collar, without his father’s aid. He looked 
over the little collection of “ goods and chattels,” which 
he called his own, to see what there was he could ex- 
change for the article he wanted. His eye soon- fell 
upon a brass finger ring, and his plan was quickly 
formed. The ring had been tumbled about among 
his playthings for a year or two, and was now dull 
and dingy ; but he remembered that he once cleaned 
and polished it, so that it looked very much like gold, 
so long as the lustre lasted. He subjected it to this 
process again, and it soon looked as well as the plain 
gold ring he wore upon his finger, which it somewhat 
resembled in size and color. Substituting it for the 
gold ring, he wore it to school that afternoon ; and a 
little negotiation, after school was dismissed, settled the 
business — the coveted dog-collar was his ! Indeed, so 
craftily did he conduct the bargain, that he made the 
other boy throw in a pretty ivory pocket-comb to boot ! 
The little boy who was thus cruelly deceived, supposed 


156 


THE CHEAT DISCOVERED. 


he was buying the ring that Oscar usually wore ; and, 
in truth, Oscar did give him to understand, in the course 
of the barter, that it was fine gold, a point on which 
the other boy did not appear to have much doubt. 

Oscar did not dare to tell any one what a good bar- 
gain he had made, for fear that the other boy would 
hear of it. Tiger appeared with a handsome collar 
around his neck the next morning ; and all the explana- 
tion any one could get from his young master was, that 
he “ traded for it.” # 

A week or tw o^ apsed before Oscar’s victim discov- 
ered the imposilion that had been practiced upon him. 
The ring, which had been proudly worn, at length be- 
gan to look dim and brassy ; and on being submitted 
to careful inspection, it was pronounced by competent 
authority to be not worth one cent. The owner was of 
course indignant, and he went at once to Oscar, and 
demanded a return of the collar and comb. But Oscar 
laughed at the proposal. 

. “ A bargain is a bargain,” said he, a and there can’t 
be any backing out, after it ’s all settled. You agreed 
to the trade, and now you must stick to it.” 

“ But it was n’t a fair bargain,” said the other boy ; 


Oscar’s defence. 


157 


“ you told me the ring was gold, and it is nothing but 
brass.” 

“ No, I did n’t tell you it was gold,” replied Oscar. 
“ You imagined ' that. And I did n’t tell you it was 
the one I wore either, — you imagined that too. It was 
my other ring that I said was gold, and I told you it 
cost two dollars, and so it did. I never told you this 
ring was gold, — I recollect perfectly about it.” 

“Well, you know I supposed it was gold, or I 
would n’t have traded for it,” replied the boy ; “ and 
besides, you made me think it was gold, whether you 
really said it was or not.” 

“ That was your look-out,” said Oscar. “ When a 
man sells a thing, he is n’t obliged to run it down. 
You must look out for yourself when you make a bar- 
gain — that ’s what I do.” 

“ I should think you did,” replied the other ; “ and I 
guess I shall remember your advice, if I ever trade 
with you again. There ’s your old ring : now give me 
back my collar and comb,” he continued, handing the 
ring to Oscar. 

“ I shan’t do any such thing,” said Oscar, and he re 


14 


158 


THE LESSON IN MORALS. 


fused to take the ring, and turned upon his heel, leaving 
the other boy in no very pleasant state of mind.” 

“ Then you ’re a great cheat and a swindler,” cried 
the victim, gathering courage as Oscar retreated. 

“ And you ’re a little greeny,” replied Oscar, with a 
loud laugh. 

Oscar had prepared his mind for this explosion of 
indignation, and though he did not care much about it, 
he was glad it was over with. He regarded the trans- 
action which led to it as a shrewd business operation, 
to be chuckled over, rather than repented of ; and he 
had no idea of spoiling it all, by undoing the bargain. 

In Oscar’s school, it was customary for the first class 
(of which he was a member) to devote the first half 
hour of every Monday morning to a lesson in morals. 
In these lessons, the duties which we owe to God, to our- 
selves, and to one another, were explained and enforced. 
Although a text-book was used, the teacher did not 
confine himself to it, in the recitations, but mingled 
oral instruction with that contained in the printed les- 
sons, often taking up incidents that occurred in school, 
to illustrate the principle he wished to establish. 

It so happened that on the Monday morning after 


THE NE WSB OT. 


159 


the occurrence just related, the subject of the moral 
lesson was dishonesty. The various forms of dis- 
honesty, — theft, robbery, fraud, &c., — were explained, 
and the distinction between them pointed out. The 
teacher then proceeded as follows : 

“A gentleman was riding in the cars, one evening, 
when a newsboy passed through the train, and he pur- 
chased a paper, giving the boy by mistake a gold eagle 
instead of a cent. The boy noticed the mistake, but 
said nothing about it. Albert, you may tell me what 
you think of that boy’s conduct.” 

“ It was dishonest,” replied Albert ; “ because he knew 
that the money did not belong to him, and yet he kept it.” 

“But did not a part of the blame belong to the 
man who made the mistake ?” inquired the teacher. 

Albert, after thinking a moment, replied : 

“ He was to blame for his carelessness, but not for 
the boy’s dishonesty.” 

“You are right,” said the teacher. “The boy was 
guilty of stealing, just as much as if he had picked th 
man’s pocket, or broken into his house. But suppose, 
instead of the mistake being to the amount of ten dol- 
lars, it had only been a few cents, — how then ?” 


160 


FORMS OF DISHONESTY. 


“It would have been just the same,” replied the boy. 

“But what if the man was very rich, and would 
never feel the loss, while the boy was poor, and need- 
ed the money ?” 

“ That would have made no difference,” replied 
Albert. 

“Very good,” continued the teacher; “when an 
honest man discovers a mistake in his own favor, he 
always hastens to rectify it. He will receive only what 
he is entitled to. Robert,” he added, addressing an 
other pupil, “ how is it with regard to lost articles ?” 

“ When we find anything that has been lost,” re- 
plied the boy addressed, “ we should try to ascertain 
the owner, and return the article to him.” 

“ Is there any guilt in neglecting to do this ?” 

“ Yes, sir, it is a kind of dishonesty.” 

“ You are right,” added the teacher ; “ the courts 
often punish men for this very offence, for it is a 
species of theft. And how of borrowing articles, 
and neglecting to return them, — is that honest?” 

“ It is not,” replied Robert. 

“Oscar,” continued the teacher, “you may give 
your opinion of this case: suppose one of your 


THE BRASS RING. 


161 


acquaintances wants a certain article belonging to 
you, ancl by way of barter, offers you a finger-ring foi 
it. You take it for granted that the ring is gold, 
but a week or two after the bargain is concluded, you 
discover that it is of brass, and of no value what 
ever. The other boy knew all the while it was brass, 
and also knew you supposed it was gold. Wha{ 
should you say of such a transaction ? Was it 
honest ?” 

Oscar turned red, and looked confused, as this ques- 
tion was put to him. It was a minute or two before he 
made any reply, and then he said, in a hesitating man- 
ner : 

“ If the other boy did n’t tell me it was gold, I don’t 
see as he was to blame.” 

“ But we will suppose there was no need of his tell- 
ing you so,” added the master ; “ we will suppose he 
managed the bargain so adroitly, that you never sus- 
pected he was not dealing fairly with you. In that 
case, should you think he had acted honestly towards 
you ?” 

“ No, sir,” replied Oscar, but it came out with the 
utmost reluctance. _ 


162 


RESTITUTION. 


“ Certainly not,” said the teacher ; “ it is dishonest to 
take advantage of another’s ignorance, or simplicity, or 
necessity, in a bargain. Overreaching in trade is often 
dignified -with the name of shrewdness, but, for all that, 
it is contrary to the rule of honesty. And now I have 
one more question to ask you : After you have discov- 
ered how your comrade has imposed upon you, what 
should you expect of him ?” 

Oscar made no reply. 

“ Should you not expect him to make full restitu- 
tion ?” 

u Yes, sir,” he replied, in a scarcely audible voice. 

“ Of course you would,” continued the master ; “ and 
if he refused, he would deserve double punishment.” 

Several other forms of dishonesty were then consid- 
ered, such as the following : — withholding from another 
his just dues ; contracting debts which we know we 
cannot pay, or making promises we know we cannot 
fulfil ; wasting or injuring the property of others, &c. 
In concluding, the teacher remarked, that it was not 
very pleasant to feel that we had been wronged and 
cheated ; but there was another feeling, a thousand-fold 
more to be dreaded — the feeling that we have wronged 


THE WARNING HEEDED. 


163 


and cheated others. And so ended the moral lesson for 
that morning. 

The particular bearing of this lesson upon Oscar, and 
the pertinency of the “ case” he was called to decide 
upon, were not generally known to the class, though 
their suspicions might have been somewhat excited by 
his confusion, and his reluctance to answer the ques- 
tions put to him. The teacher had been informed of 
Oscar’s dishonest bargain by the boy who suffered 
from it, and he chose this way to impress upon him 
the immorality of the transaction. He concluded, how- 
ever, to give him an opportunity to make a voluntary 
restitution, and so no further reference was made to the 
matter. 

Oscar was wise enough to heed the warning. Be- 
fore night, the brass dog-collar and the ivory pocket- 
comb were returned to their rightful owner. 


CHAPTER XII. 


SICKNESS. 

“ k ave g ot a bad cold, Oscar,” said Mrs. Pres- 

ton one evening towards the close of winter, as 
Oscar came in from his play, and was seized with a 
coughing spell. “ And no wonder,” she added, on 
glancing at his feet ; “ why, do you see how wet the 
bottoms of your pantaloons are ? I should like to know 
where you have been, to get so wet — it is strange that 
you will not keep out of the water.” 

“ I should like to know how anybody could help 
getting wet feet this weather, with the slosh up to your 
knees,” said Oscar. 

“I could walk about the streets all day without going 
over my shoes,” replied his mother, “ and so could you, 
if you tried to. I believe you go through all the mud- 
puddles you can find, just to see how wet you can get. 
But it won’t do for you to sit down in this condition. Take 


WET FEET. 


165 


off your wet boots, and run up stairs and put on a pair 
of dry pantaloons and some dry stockings, and then 
you may sit down to the fire and warm yourself.” 

“ I don’t want to change my pantaloons and stock- 
ings,” said Oscar ; “ I ’ll take off my boots and dry 
myself — that will do just as well.” 

“ No it won’t,” replied his mother; “you had better 
change your clothes, for you’ve got a real bad 'cold 
now, and I don’t want you to get any more. Come, 
do you hear me ? Run up to your chamber and put 
on some dry clothes.” 

Oscar paid no attention to the command, but after 
removing his wet boots, sat down before the range to 
dry his feet and legs. Such instances of disobedience 
were too common in the family to attract any special 
notice, and Mrs. Preston said nothing more about the 
matter. 

Oscar, that afternoon, had been down to the shores 
of Charles River, near Cambridge Bridge, with Alfred 
Walton and several other boys. They had been amus- 
ing themselves upon the ice that had formed along the 
edge of the river, and which was now breaking up. 
They loosened some of the large cakes, and set them 


166 


THE ICE-CAKE. 


floating off upon the current towards the ocean. It 
was in this way that Oscar got his feet so wet. 

The next afternoon, when school was dismissed, Os- 
car, forgetting his wet feet and his cold, went again to 
the same place, with several of his cronies. Tiger also 
accompanied the party, for his master seldom went 
anywhere without him, except to school. The boys 
amused themselves, as on the previous day, with shov- 
ing off large blocks of ice into the stream, and with 
running rapidly over floating pieces that were not 
large enough to bear them up. Sometimes they nar- 
rowly escaped a ducking, so venturesome were they ; 
and all of them got their feet pretty thoroughly soaked. 

It happened, after awhile, that a cake of ice upon 
which the boys were all standing, got disengaged from 
the shore, unperceived by them, and commenced float- 
ing into the river. They were all at work upon an- 
other ice-block, trying to push it off, and did not notice 
that they were going off themselves, until they were 
several feet from the shore. The distance was too great 
to leap, and the water was so deep that none of them 
dared to jump off from their precarious footing. 

“ Well, this is a pretty joke,” said one of the boys, 


AFLOAT IN THE RIVER. 


167 


with some appearance of alarm. “ I should like to 
know how we are going to get out of this scrape ?” 

“ Get out of it ? — who wants to get out of it ?” re- 
plied Oscar. “ I don’t, for one — we shall have a first- 
rate sail down into the harbor ; shan’t we, Alf ?” 

“ The tide will take us right under the bridge, and 
I ’m going to climb up one of the piers,” said Alfred, 
who appeared to be thinking more of a way of escape 
than of the pleasures of the trip. 

“ Pooh, I shan’t get off there,” said Oscar. “ I ’m in 
for a sail, and if the rest of you back out, I shan’t. 
You ’ll go too, won’t you, Tom ?” 

Before Tom could answer, they all began to notice 
that their ice-cake gave signs that the burden upon it 
was greater than it could safely bear. The swift cur- 
rent began to whirl it about in a rather uncomfortable 
manner, and it was gradually settling under water. 
They all began to be very much alarmed — all but 
Tiger, who did not quite comprehend the situation of 
affairs, and who looked up into the boys’ faces with an 
expression of curiosity, as though he wanted to say : 

“ I wonder what mischief these little rogues are up 
to now ?” .a* 


« 


168 


SHOUTING FOR HELP. 


Several people who were crossing the bridge now 
noticed the perilous situation of the boys, and stopped 
to look at them. As soon as Alfred noticed them, he 
cried out slowly, at the top of his voice : 

“ Halloo, there ! send us a boat, will you ? we ’re 
sinking !” 



There was some doubt whether the people on the 
bridge understood the cry, and the other boys repeated 
it as loud as they could, in the meantime also trying 

♦ 

JSm | 


THE RESCUE. 


169 


to manifest their want by signs and gestures. Some 
of the spectators upon the bridge, who were now quite 
numerous, shouted back in reply ; but the boys, being 
to their windward, could not understand what they 
said. Their frail support was now moving rapidly 
along, and whirling about in the eddies more alarming- 
ly than ever. It had sunk so low that they were all 
standing in the water, and they expected it would 
shortly break to pieces and precipitate them all into the 
river. There were four of them upon the cake, besides 
the dog. The two youngest boys began to cry with 
fright ; but Oscar and Alfred, though they were as 
much alarmed as the others, did not manifest it in this 
way, hut were looking anxiously towards the bridge 
and the shore for relief. 

The boys were not long kept in this dreadful state 
of suspense; for pretty soon they discovered a boat 
putting out towards them from the end of the bridge. 
There were two men in it, each of whom was plying 
an oar. They called out to the boys not to be fright- 
ened, and in a few minutes they were alongside the 
fugitive ice-cake, whose living freight was safely trans- 
ferred to the boat. The boatmen then pulled for the 
15 


170 


EFFECTS OF EXPOSURE. 


wharf from which they came, and the rescued party 
had the pleasure of standing once more upon firm 
ground. They were so overjoyed at their escape that 
they forgot to thank the men who had taken so much 
trouble to rescue them. They were not ungrateful, 
however ; though it would have been better if their 
words as well as their looks had expressed the senti- 
ment they felt. As soon as they reached the wharf, 
the men advised them to run home and dry them- 
selves, which they proceeded to do. 

When Oscar reached home, he was so hoarse, from 
hallooing, that he could not speak aloud. When his 
mother heard of his exposure, and saw how wet he 
was, she was much concerned for him. She wished 
him to change his damp clothing, hut he did not think 
it necessary, and instead of complying with her desire, 
he sat down to the fire and dried himself. He had 
but little appetite for supper ; and a headache coming 
on in the evening, he retired to bed early. Before do- 
ng so, however, he took a dose of medicine which his 
mother had prepared, to “ throw off” his cold. 

After a feverish and restless night — in which, in his 
troubled dreams, Oscar had floated to sea upon a small 


SICKNESS. 


171 


piece of ice, and, after a long agony, foundered alone in 
fathomless waters — he awoke in the morning feeling 
very strangely. Every few moments a cold chill ran 
through his body, that made him shiver until the bed 
trembled beneath him. His head ached badly, and 
there was also a pain in his back. He tried to raise 
himself up, but his arms had lost their strength, and 
he was barely able to support himself a moment upon 
his elbow. By-and-bye his brothers, who slept in the 
same room in another bed, got up, and Oscar informed 
them that he was too weak to get off the bed. They 
soon called in their father and mother, who, after look- 
ing at the sick boy, concluded to send for a physician. 

After breakfast, Ralph was despatched for the doctor, 
who soon arrived, and was conducted into Oscar’s cham- 
ber. Seating himself upon the bedside, he took the 
sick boy’s wrist into his hand, and began to talk with 
him very pleasantly, asking him various questions 
about his feelings, the manner in which he took cold, 
&c. Having ascertained all the facts and symptom 
of the case, he told the family he thought Oscar was 
suffering from an attack of lung fever, and he then 
gave directions as to the manner in which the disease 


172 


GROWING WORSE. 


should be treated. He also wrote a recipe for some 
medicine, to be procured at the apothecary’s. The 
terms used in it were Latin, and very much abbrevi- 
ated, besides, so that they were unintelligible to Mrs* 
Preston ; for this is a custom among physicians, that 
has come down from ancient times. Seeing Mrs. Pres- 
ton was in some doubt about the prescription, he ex- 
plained to her what the articles were that composed it, 
and the effect they would have upon the patient. 

After the doctor had gone, it was decided to remove 
Oscar into another chamber, in a lower story, where 
he would be more comfortable, and where, also, it 
would be more convenient to wait upon him. Wrap- 
ping him up warmly in the bed-clothes, his father took 
him in his arms, and carried him to the room he was 
to occupy for the present. 

In spite of his medicine, Oscar continued to grow 
worse, through the day. He longed for night to come, 
that he might go to sleep ; but when it came, it did 
not bring with it the refreshing slumber of health. 
Short naps and troubled dreams alternated with long, 
weary hours of wakefulness ; and the sun, at its next 
rising, found him sicker than before. The pains in his 


PEEVISHNESS. 


173 


head and chest were more severe ; his skin was hot 
and dry ; his cheeks were flushed with fever ; he 
breathed with difficulty, and his cough had become 
quite distressing. He felt cross and fretful, too, and 
nothing that was done for him seemed to give him 
satisfaction. He was unwilling that any one should 
attend upon him, except his mother, and refused to 
receive his food or medicine from any hand but hers. 
If she happened to be absent from his room more than 
a few moments, when he was awake, he would insist 
upon her being called back. 

But though Oscar would not allow his mother to 
leave him, she did not suit him much better than the 
other members of the family. It was with considerable 
difficulty that she could coax him to take the medicines 
the doctor had ordered. Then she was obliged to deny 
him all forms of nourishment, except a little gum-arabic 
water, — an arrangement at which he complained a good 
deal. 

Oscar’s fever continued to run for more than a week, 
the violence of the disease increasing from day to day. 
Then a favorable change took place, and the doctor 

told him the fever had turned, and he was getting 
15 * 


174 


GETTING BETTER 


better. For a day or two before this, however, he 
was very ill ; so ill, indeed, that he submitted to what- 
ever the doctor ordered, without a word of complaint. 
He felt that there was danger, and he dare not stand 
in the way of the means used for his recovery. To 
this, perhaps, he owed the favorable turn the disease 
had taken ; for had he refused to take his medicines, 
as he did at the commencement of his sickness, or even 
had he only engaged in a fruitless but exhausting con- 
test with his mother, the scale might have turned the 
other way, and the fever ended in death. 

Getting better ! That was the best news Oscar had 
heard for many a day. He almost wanted to kiss the 
lips that spoke those encouraging words. He always 
liked Dr. Liscom, but never so well as at that moment. 
It was good news to all the household, too, and flew 
quickly from one to another. In fact, the children 
grew so jubilant over it, that their mother had to re- 
mind them that Oscar was yet too sick to bear any 
loise in the house. 

“ 0 dear,” said George, “ I ’ve got tired of keeping 
so still. How long will it be before we can make a 
real good noise, mother ?” 


IMPATIENCE. 


175 


“ And how long before I can sing, and practice my 
music-lessons, mother ?” inquired Ella. 

“ And how long before Oscar can go out and play ?” 
inquired Ralph, more thoughtful tor his sick brother 
han for himself. 

“ I can’t tell,” replied their mother ; “ you must all 
keep still a few days longer, for Oscar is very weak 
now, and the noise disturbs him. The doctor thinks it 
will take several weeks for him to get fully well, but he 
will soon be able to sit up, I hope.” 

The next morning, Oscar felt decidedly better, and so 
he continued to improve day by day. But his old im- 
patience soon began to return. He grumbled every 
time the hour returned to take his drops, and he fairly 
rebelled against the food that was prepared for him — a 
little weak gruel, when his appetite was clamoring for 
a hearty meal of beef and potatoes ! During his sick- 
ness, many little delicacies had been sent in to him by 
friends and neighbors, and from most of these too he 
was still debarred by the inexorable doctor. He teased 
his mother to let him have things the doctor had for- 
bidden, and was offended with her when she refused. 
He thus made a great deal of unnecessary trouble and 


176 


A DISPUTE. 


suffering for his mother, who had served him so devo- 
tedly through this sickness that her own health was 
giving way. 

A day or two after his fever turned, Oscar wished to 
sit up in a chair, and begged very hard to be allowed 
to get up from the bed. 

“ Why, Oscar,” said his mother, “ you could not sit 
up two minutes, if I should put you in a chair. You 
have no idea how weak you are.” 

“ No, I aint weak,” replied Oscar ; “ I bet you I can 
walk across the room just as well as you can — you 
don’t know how strong I ’ve grown within a day or 
two. Come, mother, do let me get up, will you ?” 

“ You are crazy to talk so, my son,” answered Mrs. 
Preston. “ If you should try to stand up, you would 
faint away as dead as a log. It will be a week before 
you are strong enough to walk about.” 

“ I believe you mean to keep me sick as long as you 
can,” was Oscar’s unfeeling reply. “ I am tired almost 
to death of laying a-bed,” he added, and the tears be 
gan to gather in his eyes. 

His mother felt hurt by these words, but she attribut- 
ed them to the weakening and irritating influence of 


THE EASY CHAIR. 


177 


disease, and forgave them as quickly as they were ut- 
tered. She even yielded to his wishes so far as to offer 
to let him sit up in bed a little while. He gladly ac- 
ceded to the proposal, and putting his arms around her 
neck, she slowly raised him up ; but he had no sooner 
reached an upright position than his head began to 
“ fly round like a top,” and he was very glad to be let 
down again to his pillow. This little experiment satis- 
fied him for the day. 

It was a fine April morning when Oscar was first 
taken up from his sick bed, and placed in an easy chair, 
well lined with blankets and comforters. This was a 
memorable event in his life, the first time he sat up after 
nearly three weeks’ confinement to his bed. He was 
dragged to the front window, from which he could see 
the people upon the street below. How familiar, and 
yet how strange, everything and everybody looked to 
his sick eyes ! And then, to have his toast and drink 
set before him upon a corner of the table, where he 
could help himself, and eat and drink with some com- 
fort, — was n’t that “ grand,” to use his own expressive 
term ! 

Oscar’s recovery was now pretty rapid, but his moth- 


178 


FEAR OF A RELAPSE 


er had to watch him very sharply, to prevent him from 
running into excesses, to which his impatience continu- 
ally prompted him. It was hard to make him realize 
that there was yet some danger of a relapse, and that 
prudence would be necessary for several weeks to come. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


GETTING WELL. 

QSCAR had reason to remember the first time he 
went down stairs, after his fit of sickness. It was 
in the night-time. He awoke, feeling quite hungry; 
for he was yet kept on a spare diet, which was far 
from satisfying the cravings of his appetite. He was 
alone in his room, and all the rest of the family were 
asleep. A lamp was burning dimly in the fire-place 
of his chamber, and the door that led into his mother’s 
room was open, that she might be ready, at the least 
sound of alarm. After thinking the matter over a few 
minutes, and satisfying himself that no one in the house 
was awake, he determined to go down stairs in quest 
of something to eat. 

' il What is the use of starving a fellow to death, be- 
cause he has been sick ?” he said to himself. “ I might 
as well die one way as another ; and if there ’s anything 


180 


A MIDNIGHT SUPPER. 


to eat in the house, I ’m hound to have it. I ’ve lived 
on slops and toasted bread three weeks, and I can’t 
stand it any longer.” 

He accordingly got up, and taking the lamp, stole 
very cautiously into the entry, and down stairs, having 
nothing but his night-clothes upon him. The snap- 
ping of the stairs, under his tread, was the only noise 
that was heard, and this did not awake any of the 
household. He proceeded at once to the kitchen closet, 
and commenced helping himself with a free hand to its 
contents. He began upon a dish of corned beef and 
vegetables, from which he partook quite liberally. He 
then hastily swallowed a piece of mince-pie, and a slice 
or two of cake, when, the night air beginning to feel 
chilly, he hurried back to bed. This last operation 
was by no means so easy as he had imagined it would 
be. His knees were very weak and “ shaky,” and it 
seemed as though they could not support him, when 
he undertook to go up stairs. He was alarmed, and 
would have given up the attempt, and called for help, 
but for the dread of being caught in such a flagrant 
act of disobedience. So he persisted in his efforts, and 
finally reached his chamber, quite exhausted. 


THE DOCTOR. 


181 


After a heavy and troubled sleep, Oscar awoke in the 
morning, feeling quite wretchedly. As soon as his 
mother entered the room, her quick eye detected the 
unfavorable change ; but he did not seem inclined to 
complain much of his feelings, and appeared averse to 
conversing about them. She ascertained, however, 
after awhile, that Oscar was more feverish than he 
had been, that he had a severe pain in his chest, 
and that his cough was worse. Many were the sur- 
mises thrown out, by his father and mother, as to the 
probable cause of this change in his symptoms ; but as 
for himself, he seemed entirely at a loss to account for 
the mystery, and left them to form their own conjectures. 

The doctor, who now visited Oscar only two or three 
times a week, was sent for after breakfast. When he 
arrived, he questioned Mrs. Preston very closely as to 
the manner in which the patient had been treated, and 
he also addressed many inquiries to Oscar ; but he 
learned nothing from either that could account for the 
renewed attack of fever. He sat a few moments, in a 
thoughtful mood, seemingly at a loss what to say, 
when Oscar, who had complained much of nausea for 

the last half hour, began to show symptoms of vomit- 
16 


182 


THE MYSTERY SOLVED. 


ing. A basin was brought, and the contents of his 
stomach were quickly discharged into it. 

The mystery was now explained. Mrs. Preston 
looked on in silent astonishment, while the doctor could 
hardly repress his anger at this exhibition of the contents 
of his patient’s stomach. There were great pieces of un- 
masticated meat and potato, mixed up with a porridge 
of half-dissolved pie and cake, the whole forming a 
medley of hearty and indigestible substances, that would 
have taxed the strong stomach of a healthy man. 

“Well,” said the doctor, turning to Mrs. Preston, 
when Oscar got through, “ what does all this mean ?” 

“I know not; you must ask him,” replied Mrs. 
Preston. 

The same question, put to Oscar, brought from him 
a reluctant confession of the last night’s folly. When 
he had concluded, the doctor arose, and taking hi3 
hand, said : 

“ I will bid you good-bye. It ’s of no use for me to 
attend upou you any longer, if you abuse my con- 
fidence in this way. If you want to kill yourself, I 
won’t stand in your way. Good morning.” 

Before Oscar recovered from his astonishment, the 


THE DOCTOR’S ANGER. 


183 


doctor had reached the entry. Addressing his mother 
who was following him, he said : 

“Call him back, mother — tell him I won’t do so 
again — call him back.” 

The doctor heard the message, and returned. 

“ I will consent to prescribe for you only on one con- 
dition,” he said ; “and that is, that you will agree to do 
precisely as I tell you to. You must take the medicines 
I order, and eat only what I tell you to, or I will have 
nothing more to do with you. Do you agree to that?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Oscar. 

The doctor resumed his seat, and felt the patient’s 
pulse. He had not yet got entirely over his irritation, 
and, turning to Mrs. Preston, he remarked: 

“ If the patient was a little stronger, my first prescrip- 
tion would be a smart external application of birch or 
ratan ; but, as it is, we shall have to omit that for the 
present. You need not think you will escape punish- 
ment, however,” he continued, turning to Oscar. “This 
scrape of yours will put you back more than one week 
and if you are not careful you may never get your 
health again. You may trifle with the doctor, but you 
can’t trifle with the lung fever.” 


184 


SLOW RECOVERY. 


The doctor then gave directions as to Oscar’s diet 
and medicine, and departed, but not until he had again 
warned him against leaving the room without his moth- 
er’s consent, or eating any articles forbidden by her. 

Oscar found no opportunity after this to evade the 
commands of the doctor, had he been so disposed, for 
some one was always with him by day and night. 
Still, his recovery seemed to have been checked very 
much by his relapse, and the doctor’s skill was taxed 
pretty severely to bring the fever to a favorable termi- 
nation. As it was, his attempt was not fully success- 
ful ; for the fever, in spite of all he could do, left be- 
hind it a cough, and a weakness of the lungs, which 
gave Oscar’s parents no little alarm at times. 

For a fortnight after his midnight supper, Oscar al- 
lowed his mother and the doctor to do just as they 
pleased with him. He yielded to their wishes, and 
their orders were law to him. At the end of that time 
the doctor discontinued his regular visits. Oscar was 
now able to go out-doors a little in very pleasant 
weather ; but his cough rendered prudence still very 
necessary. His confinement, however, was daily grow- 
ing more irksome, and sometimes he disregarded the 


THE MENAGERIE. 


185 


positive commands of his parents by going out when 
the weather was unsuitable. 

One morning, a menagerie, or collection of wild 
beasts, was to enter the city in grand procession. There 
were to be several elephants and camels on foot, be- 
sides hundreds of other animals (invisible) in carriages. 
There was also to be a mammoth gilt chariot, filled 
with musicians, and drawn by ever so many horses. 
The procession was to pass very near the street where 
Oscar lived, and he intended to go and see it ; but 
when the morning came, there was a cold, drizzling 
rain, with an uncomfortable east wind, and his mother 
told him he must not think of going out. He did 
think of it, however, and not only thought of it, but 
went. While his mother was up stairs, he quietly 
slipped out, and went to the corner the procession was 
expected to pass. There he waited about an hour, until 
he became thoroughly wet and chilled, and then return- 
ed home, without seeing the sight ; for the showmen 
had shortened their intended route on account of the 
storm. He entered the house, vexed by his disappoint- 
ment and the uncomfortable plight he was in ; and 
when his mother mildly reproved him for his conduct, 
16 * 


186 


A CURIOUS LETTER. 


and entreated him to be more careful of himself, he 
only replied that .he did not wish to live, if he must be 
shut up in the house all the time. This act of imprudence 
and disobedience made him a close prisoner in the house 
for several days, besides causing him no little suffering. 

Oscar employed much of his leisure time in reading, 
during his confinement in-doors. His acquaintances 
lent him many interesting books, with which he be- 
guiled the weary hours. One day, happening to think 
of a volume belonging to his classmate, Benjamin 
Wright, which he thought he should like to read, he 
sent word by Ralph that he wished to borrow it. The 
next morning Benjamin brought it to school, and Ralph 
took it home to Oscar. On removing the paper in 
which it was wrapped up, a letter dropped out, which 
Oscar found was directed to himself. He opened it, 
and a smile lit up his countenance as he glanced over 
the sheet, which was filled up with drawings and writ- 
ing of an amusing character. Benjamin was quite fa- 
mous among the boys for the skill and facility with 
which he made sketches, and in this letter he had given 
a curious specimen of his artistic talent. The following 
is a copy of this production : 


ITS CONTENTS. 


187 


Dear Oscar: 

I am sorry to hear you ’re in weakness and pain, 

And I send you a book to beguile your tired brain ; 

I send also some puzzles, to stir up your wit, 

And tempt you to laugh, when you really don’t feel like it one 


bitl 



What a queer name ! 

What do we all do when we first get into bed ? 

Why is swearing like an old coat ? 

^ What is that which is lengthened by being cut at both ends ? 


My first, if you do, you won’t hit ; 

My second, if you do, you will have it ; 
My whole, if you do, you won’t guess it. 



Turn me oyer, pray. 



188 


FUN FOR THE CHILDREN. 


/ 




A word there is, five syllables contains ; 
Take one away, no syllable remains. 


What is that which is lower with a head than without one? 
A Whi was the first whistler? 

C What tune did he whistle ? 
j $ How do you swallow a door? 

JJ What is that which lives in winter, dies in summer, and 
grows with its root upwards? 

If you were to tumble out of the window, what would you 
fall against ? 



Why is this like the Tails of Niagara ? 


If my puzzles are simple, and my pictures a fright, 
Then just laugh at me, and it will all 

B. Wright. 


This letter was the prime source of attraction to all 
the children, the rest of the day; and its reception 
formed an era in Oscar’s sick-day experience, not easily 
to he forgotten. All the family, from Mr. Preston 
down to little George, set themselves to work to guess 



MAKING A COPY. 


189 


out the riddles ; hut in some of them, they found more 
than their match. To Oscar, however, the letter was 
something more than a collection of drawings and puz- 
zles. It was a token of interest and sympathy from a 
boy towards whom he had never manifested a very 
friendly spirit. Benjamin’s high standing in the school, 
both for scholarship and behavior, had awakened in 
Oscar a secret feeling of jealousy or resentment towards 
a him. He was a poor boy, too, and this by no means 
increased Oscar’s respect for him. But now, Oscar be- 
gan, to feel ashamed of all this; and as instances of his 
unkind treatment of his generous classmate came up 
in remembrance, he wished he had the power to blot 
them from existence. He determined thenceforth to 
“stand up” for Benjamin, and began to plan some way 
of making a return for his manifestation of good feeling. 

Ella wanted to carry Benjamin’s letter to school, to 
show to the girls, but Oscar would not allow it to go 
out of his hands. She then begged the privilege of 
copying it, to which he consented. She did the best 
she could, no doubt, but her drawings probably did not 
quite do justice to the subjects ; for Oscar declared that 
her copy was more comical than the original. She lent 


190 


AN ARRIVAL. 


it to some of her schoolmates, one of whom was roguish 
enough to show it to Benjamin himself! He laughed 
heartily at the caricature; but thinking it was getting 
him rather more notoriety than he wished, he put it in 
his pocket, and that was the end of it. 

In consequence of his many acts of imprudence, 
Oscar got along very slowly in his recovery. Yet 
he was daily growing more impatient of his long 
confinement, and the utmost vigilance of his parents 
was necessary to restrain him from doing himself 
harm. During stormy weather, which was not rare 
at that season of the year, he was not allowed to 

go out, and the time passed heavily with him. One 

rainy afternoon, as he was sitting listlessly at a front 
window, watching for some object of interest to pass, 
a coach stopped at the door, and his heart beat high 

at the thought of his dulness being dispelled by the 

arrival of “company.” The driver opened the coach 
door, and out jumped a stout, brown-faced man, whom 
Oscar at once recognized as his uncle, John Preston, 
from Maine. 

The arrival of Uncle John was soon heralded through 
the house, and a warm greeting extended to him. He 


UNCLE JOHN. 


191 


usually visited the city thrice a year on business, and 
on such occasions made his brother’s house his stop- 
ping-place. He lived in the town of Brookdale, where 
he had a family ; but he was engaged in the lumber 
business, and generally spent the winter months in the 
forests of Maine, with large gangs of loggers, who were 
employed to cut down trees, and convey them to the 
banks of the streams, where they were floated down to 
the mills in the spring freshets. These forests are far 
from any settlement, and the lumber-men live in log- 
huts, in a very independent and care-for-nobody sort of 
way. Oscar had often heard his uncle describe their 
manner of life, and, to him, there was something quite 
fascinating about it. He thought he should like the 
logging business very much — all but the working part 
of it ; he was afraid that would spoil the whole, for his 
Uncle John always represented it as being pretty hard 
work. 

Oscar had four cousins in Brookdale, the children of 
his UnclQ John, none of whom he had ever seen. He 
had many questions to ask about them, in the course 
of which he expressed a wish that he might visit them. 
His uncle replied that he should like to take him home 


192 


SOLUTIONS OF PUZZLES. 


with him, and, as he was sick, he thought the journey 
might do him good. He afterwards talked with Os- 
car’s parents about the matter, and they finally conclud- 
ed to let him go, hoping that a few weeks in the coun- 
try would improve his health. 

Note. — The following are the solutions of the puzzles, &c., 
in Benjamin’s letter, contained in this chapter. The first 
puzzle is the name of Oscar Preston, enigmatically express- 
ed. 2. Make an impression. 3. It is a bad habit. 4. A ditch. 
5. Mistake. 6. Monosyllable. T. A pillow. 8. The wind. 9. 
“ Over the hills and far away.” 10. Bolt it. 11. An icicle. 
12. Against your inclination. 13. It is a cataract (cat erect). 










CHAPTER XIV. 


THE JOURNEY. 

QSCAR’S valise was well packed for his journey, and 
many were the injunctions given him by his 
mother, in regard to his conduct during his absence 
from home. The morning for his departure soon came, 
and, in company with his uncle, he proceeded to the 
depot, and took the cars for Portland. It was a mild 
spring morning, near the close of May. Oscar secured 
a seat by a window, from which he could see the coun- 
try they passed through ; while his uncle, to whom the 
journey was no novelty, seated himself by his side, and 
was soon absorbed in his morning newspaper. 

The keen relish with which Oscar set out upon his 
long ride gradually wore off, and he began to feel 
weary long before the train reached its destination. It 
was just noon when they arrived at Portland; and 

as it was too late to reach Brookdale that day, Oscar’' 

17 


194 


THE HOTEL, 


uncle concluded to stop there until the next morning. 
They proceeded to a hotel, where they booked their 
names, and were shown to a chamber. After dinner, 
Mr. Preston took Oscar to walk, and showed him some 
of the most notable places about town. But the latter 
felt too tired to walk about a great deal, and spent 
most of the afternoon in the hotel, while his uncle was 
off attending to some business. 

After supper, Mr. Preston again went out to make 
some calls. He invited Oscar to go with him, but he 
preferred to remain in the hotel. He lounged awhile in 
the bar-room, as it was called (though there was no bar 
in it), listening to the conversation of the men who had 
gathered there. At length, beginning to grow sleepy, 
he retired to his chamber, taking with him a queer 
little lamp the landlord gave him, which appeared to 
hold only about a thimblefull of oil. Oscar thought it 
was a stingy contrivance, and had some notion of sit- 
ting up to see how long it would burn ; but his eye- 
lids grew heavy, and he gave up the idea. Throwing 
off his clothing, he extinguished his diminutive lamp, 
and took possession of one of the beds in the room, of 
which there were two. As he composed himself to 


EVENING PE AYER. 


195 


sleep, a slight sense of lonesomeness stole over him, 
when he remembered that he was alone in a strange 
house and a strange city, more than a hundred miles 
from his home ; and almost unconsciously he found 
himself reverently repeating the little prayer he ha 
been taught by his mother in infancy, but which of lat 
years, in his sad waywardness, he had outgrown and 
almost forgotten : 

“ Now I lay me down to sleep, 

I pray the Lord my soul to keep ; 

If I should die before I wake, 

I pray the Lord my soul to take.” » 

He had occasionally repeated to himself this simple 
but appropriate evening petition during his late illness ; 
but, strange to tell, for several years previous to that 
time, the thought of asking anything of the great 
Giver of all good had scarcely ever entered his mind. 

Oscar was soon fast asleep, and the next thing he 
was conscious of was the striking of a strange church- 
clock, that awoke him in the morning. His uncle was 
dressing himself, and the sun was shining in at th 
window. For a moment, he was puzzled to determine 
where he was ; but his recollection returned when his 
uncle remarked : 


196 


THE CARS. 


“ Come, Oscar, it is time to get up, — we have got to 
be at the depot in an hour.” 

Oscar jumped out of bed, and was dressed and 
ready for the breakfast table before the bell rang. Af- 
er the morning meal was despatched, — for it was lit- 
erally a work of despatch, judging from the celerity 
with which the heaping plates of hot biscuits and beef- 
steak disappeared from the long table, — Mr. Preston 
settled with the landlord, and proceeded with Oscar to 
the railroad depot. 

* “ How much further have we got to go ?” inquired 
Oscar, after they had taken their seat in the car. 

“ About one hundred and twenty miles,” replied his 
uncle ; “ and thirty-five of it will be in a stage-coach — - 
that is the worst of the whole journey.” 

“ I shall like that part of it first-rate, I guess,” said 
Oscar. “ If they have good horses, I know I shall.” 

“ You will find out how you like it, before night,” 
added Mr. Preston, with a smile. 

The cars were soon on their way, and Oscar’s 
eyes and attention were fully engaged in taking 
note of the scenery from the windows. The ap- 
pearance of the country did not differ much from 


THE STAGE-COACH. 


197 


that through which he passed the day previous; 
and long before he reached the end of his eighty- 
miles’ ride, his attention began to flag, and his eyes 
to grow weary. It was about eleven o’clock, when 
they arrived at the depot at which they were to leave 
the train. Here they had an opportunity to rest an 
hour, and to take dinner, before resuming their jour- 
ney. 

After dinner, the stage-coach made its appearance, 
and the passengers began to stow themselves away 
within it. Oscar mounted the outside, and took a 
seat with the driver, with whom he was soon on inti- 
mate terms. All things being ready, the horses started, 
at the familiar “ Get up !” and they were on their way 
toward Brookdale. 

The horses did not prove quite so smart as Oscar 
hoped they would, and the coach was a heavy and 
hard-riding concern, compared with those he was ac- 
customed to ride upon at home. But the road was 
good, though hilly, and the scenery, much of the way, 
was very pleasant. The driver, too, was quite talkative, 
and Oscar being the only outside passenger, enjoyed 

the full benefit of his communicativeness. Occasion- 

17 * 


198 


WHAT THEY SAW. 


ally they passed through a village, with its rows of 
neat white houses, its tall church steeple, its bustling 
store, and its groups of children playing in the streets. 
Now and then they stopped a few moments, to leave a 
passenger, a package, or a mail-bag ; for the strong « 
leathern bags, with brass padlocks, which the driver 
had carefully packed away under his box, contained 
the United States’ mails for the towns along his 
route. 

As they advanced on their way, the villages became 
less frequent, the farm houses were more scattering, 
and the country grew more wild. Sometimes the road 
extended for miles through thickly-wooded forests. 
Occasionally they would come in sight of a river, 
and, perhaps, would hear the clatter and whizzing 
of a saw-mill, or get a glimpse of a raft of logs float- 
ing lazily down the stream. It was about six o’clock 
when the stage stopped at the post-office of a small 
settlement, and the driver told Oscar he was going to 
leave him there. His seat had grown tiresome, during 
the last few hours, and he was by no means sorry to 
leave it. 

“ Well, Jerry, here I am again,” said Mr. Preston, 


COUSIN JERRY. 


199 


addressing a boy who stood by. “How are all the 
folks at home ?” 

“ They are well,” replied the boy addressed. 

“ This way, Oscar,” said Mr. Preston, pointing to a 
horse and wagon on the opposite side of the street. 
“ Oscar, this is your cousin Jerry,” he continued, and 
the boys shook hands with each other, in acknowledg- 
ment of the introduction. 

Oscar now learned that they were yet five miles from 
Brookdale, and that as the stage did not pass any 
nearer to his uncle’s, Jerry had come over with a horse 
to take his father home. There being but one seat 
to the wagon, Mr. Preston and Oscar took possession 
of it, while Jerry seated himself on the floor behind 
them. While on the way to Brookdale, Oscar ad- 
dressed several remarks to his cousin ; but the latter 
seemed shy, and they did not get acquainted with each 
other very fast. They passed but very few houses, 
and Oscar looked in vain for any signs of a village. 
A.t length, when he thought they could not be far 
from their journey’s end, he inquired : 

“ Where is the village, uncle John ? Shan’t we 
see any of it, going to your house ?” 


200 


THE JOURNEY’S END. 


“ This is the village,” replied Mr. Preston. 

“ This a village !” exclaimed Oscar ; “ why, I don’t 
see any houses.” 

“ This is all the village there is,” replied his uncle ; 
“ there are hardly any two houses in sight of each 
other in the town.” 

They were now approaching an old, two-story farm- 
house, in the doorway of which a woman and several 
children were standing, looking towards them. This 
proved to be the end of their journey. Having driven 
the wagon into the large barn which stood nearly op- 
posite the house, Mr. Preston left Jerry to put up the 
horse, and proceeded at once to the house with his 
nephew. Mrs. Preston had seen Oscar in Boston, 
and came out to meet him. She welcomed him very 
cordially, and inquired after all the other members of 
the family. She then introduced him to his three 
other 'cousins, Emily, Harriet, and Mary, all of whom 
were younger than Jerry, and quite as shy and silent 
as he, at the presence of a stranger. 

Supper was now ready, and all the family, including 
James, the hired man, seated themselves at the table. 
Mr. Preston, during the meal, talked freely of what he 


LITTLE MARY. 


201 


had seen and done since he left home ; hut the children 
maintained their gravity and silence, though Oscar 
tried hard to break the ice of restraint with Jerry, who 
sat by his side. A strange face was an unusual thing 
among them, and they could not get over it in a mo- 
ment. % 

After supper, Mrs. Preston and her oldest daughter 
cleared off the table and washed the dishes ; James 
and Jerry went out to the barn ; Mr. Preston sat down 
to a table to examine some papers he had in his pocket- 
book ; while Harriet and Mary remained, to keep Oscar 
company. The latter now began to make advances 
towards his youngest cousin, who was the prettiest and 
most interesting of the children. A little coaxing 
brought her to his side. 

“ Da you know what my name is, Sissy ?” he in- 
quired. 

“ Yes ; it ’s Oscar,” she replied. 

“Oscar what?” he inquired. 

“ Cousin Oscar,” she answered, after a little hesitation. 

“Yes, but that isn’t all of it,” replied Oscar; “don’t 

you know the other part of it — Cousin Oscar 

what ?” 


202 


CONVERSATION. 


Mary looked thoughtful a moment, and then replied, 
in a confident tone, “ Boston.” 

Oscar could not help laughing at this amusing mis- 
take, and Mary, feeling hurt at the liberty he took, be- 
gan to move away ; but he held her by the hand, say- 
ing: f 

“ No, don’t go yet, Sissy — you got my name almost 
right, after all. Cousin Oscar Preston, from Boston, — 
that was what you meant to say, was n’t it ?” 

“ Yes,” replied Mary. 

“Now tell me what your name is?” continued Oscar. 

“ Mary Preston,” she replied. 

“ And how old are you ?” 

“ I ’m going to be six next winter,” she answered, 
with animation. 

“ Very well, — you ’re a smart little girl,” replied 
Oscar. 

“ How old be you ?” inquired Mary, now turning the 
table upon her questioner. 

“ I ’m fourteen,” said Oscar. 

“You’re a smart little boy,” added Mary, with a 
roguish twinkle in her eye, and she darted out of the 
room with a merry laugh. 


GETTING ACQUAINTED. 


203 


After that, there was no more shyness between Mary 
and Oscar. With the older children, however, Oscar 
did not get acquainted quite so easily, particularly with 
the girls. He made but little progress with any of 
them that evening, until he retired with Jerry, with 
whom he was to sleep during his visit. After they 
had got into bed, Jerry’s tongue was loosed, and be 
fore they went to sleep his reserve had almost entirely 
vanished 




* 


CHAPTER XV. 


BROOKD ALE. 

rjIHE next morning the air was extremely raw and 
chilly, and there were strong indications of rain. 
Oscar’s uncle and aunt advised him so earnestly not to 
expose himself to the cold and damp wind, that he did 
not extend his rambles any further than to the barn 
that day.- v But if he did not go far, he made many 
new acquaintances. Having made sure of Jerry and 
Mary, he left his other two cousins to “ surrender at 
discretion,” and turned his attention in another direc- 
tion. His first performance was to introduce himself 
to Billy, the horse, who was eating the breakfast James 
had just given him. After rubbing and talking to him 
awhile, he paid his respects to a pair of oxen and three 
or four cows, which he helped James and Jerry to drive 
into the pasture near the barn. He next visited the 
hogs, and then the hens. This completed the list of 


A LONG VACATION. 


205 


live stock on the farm. He then had a frolic with 
Jerry in the hay-loft, in the midst of which he sudden- 
ly stopped and inquired : 

“ Is n’t it almost time for you to go to school, Jerry ?” 

“ No,” his cousin replied, with a laugh, “ it wants 
just six months of it.” 

“ Six months !” exclaimed Oscar ; “ what do you 
mean ? Don’t you go to school ?” 

“ Yes, I go when there is any school ; but it does n’t 
commence till next December,” replied Jerry. 

“ That ’s a queer idea,” said Oscar ; “ I should like 
to know how long your school keeps, after it begins.” 

“It keeps three months,” replied Jerry. 

“I should like that first-rate — I ♦wish I lived here,” 
said Oscar ; “ I have to go to school all the time. But 
why does n’t your school keep more than three 
months ?” 

“ I don’t know,” replied Jerry ; “ I guess it ’s because 
folks are too stingy to pay for it. They ’ve been talk- 
ing of having a summer school, but I don’t believe it 
will amount to anything.” 

“ I should hope it would n’t if I lived *hero,” said Os- 
car. “ What capital times you must have ! — no school 

18 


206 


WORK AND PLAY. 


to bother you, and no lessons to get. But I suppose 
you have to work some — don’t you ?” 

“ No, not much,” said Jerry ; “ I help a little in 
planting and haying time, and have a few chores to do 
about the house, — that ’s all.” 

“ Do you have many boys to play with ?” inquired 
Oscar. 

“ There are boys enough,” replied his cousin, “ but 
they are scattered all over town, — that ’s the worst of 
it. There is only one fellow of my age that lives near 
here, and he ’s half a mile off.” 

“ If you call that near, I should like to know what 
you call distant,” said Oscar. “I’m afraid I should be 
lonesome if I lived here.” 

“Halloo, it rains!” said Jerry, as the big drops be- 
gan to sound upon the roof over their heads. 

“ Then I ’m going in,” added Oscar, and they both 
started for the house. 

It proved to be a rainy day, and Oscar was obliged 
to find his amusement in-doors through its remaining 
hours. With his four cousins to help him, this was 
not a very difficult matter. When he retired at night, 
he felt quite at home in his new quarters. 


A FINE MORNING. 


207 


The sun rose clearly the next morning, and every- 
thing looked the more beautiful for the rain. To 
Oscar, the fields not only seemed greener, but the hills 
looked higher, and the trees more majestic, than they 
did the day before. 

“ Why,” he exclaimed, as he stood before the cham- 
ber window, “ there is a pond away off there, is n’t 
there ? I did n’t know that before.” 

“Yes, that’s a pond,” replied Jerry, “ and we’ve got 
a small river, too, but you can’t see it from here. 
We ’ll go over to the pond, some warm day, and go 
into water ; it ’s a real good place to bathe.” 

“ Perhaps we ’ll go to-day,” said Oscar ; “ it looks as 
though it were going to be real warm.” 

Mrs. Preston now called to the boys that breakfast 
was ready, and they hurriedly finished dressing them- 
selves, and descended to the kitchen. Having washed 
his face at the sink, Oscar stepped to the door, and 
used his pocket-comb ; but Jerry was in too great a 
hurry to go through this last operation, and he was 
about taking his seat at the table, with his hair stand- 
ing up in every direction, when his father inquired : 

“ Jerry, what have you been doing to your head V 1 


208 


NEATNESS. 


“ Nothing,” replied Jerry, with a look of surprise. 

u Well, I think you had better do something to it, 
before you come here,” said his father. “ Oscar will 
think you were brought up among the wild Arabs, 
if you come to the table with such a mop of hair as 
that about your head. Don’t you see how nicely he 
has smoothed his hair ?” 

“ He ’s got a comb of his own. I wish you would 
buy me one, father,” said Jerry. 

“ Don’t stand there talking — go and comb your 
hair,” said Mr. Preston, somewhat sharply. 

To tell the truth, Jerry did need a lesson in neat- 
ness; and in this respect, Oscar was a very good 
model for him to imitate. Having reduced his snarly 
locks to something like order and smoothness, Jerry 
took his seat at the table, much improved in appear- 
ance. 

“ You ’ll have a chance to go about some to-day, 
Oscar,” said Mr. Preston ; “ it ’s about twenty-five de- 
grees warmer than it was yesterday.” 

“ Father,” said Jerry, “ I and Oscar — ” 

“I and Oscar — where did you learn your manners?” 
interrupted his mother. 


A PROPOSAL. 


209 


Jerry was for a moment in doubt whether to be 
offended or not at this second unexpected lesson in 
good-breeding ; but he finally concluded to make the 
best of it, and went on with his story : 

“ Oscar and I, then — were going over to the pond 
this forenoon, and I guess it will be warm enough for 
us to go into water. Should n’t you think it would ?” 

“No, indeed,” replied Mr. Preston, “you mustn’t 
think of such a thing. It’s only the first of June, 
and you ought not to go into water for two or three 
weeks yet. Besides, Oscar ’s an invalid, and I should n’t 
like to have him go in, even if it was warm enough for 
you. I would n’t walk about much, either, at first,” he 
continued, addressing Oscar. “You ’re weak, and must 
look out, and not overdo yourself. This afternoon, 
when the horse is at leisure, Jerry shall give you & 
ride ; so you had better not go far this forenoon.” 

The river of which Jerry spoke is a small stream that 
has its source in the lake Oscar saw from the chamber 
window. It flows in a south-westerly direction, cross 
ing the road on which Mr. Preston lived, not far from 
his house. A small bridge is thrown over the river at 

this point. After breakfast, Jerry and Oscar walked 
18 * 


210 


WALKING AND RIDING. 


down to this bridge, and then, leaving the road, fol- 
lowed the river through the fields and woods, to its 
fountain-head. Here they found a beautiful sheet of 
water, more than half a mile across, in one direction, 
with an irregular shore, fringed most of the way with 
woods. A two-masted sail-boat was riding at anchor, 
a little off from the shore, which Oscar regarded with 
wishful eye ; but as it did not belong to Mr. Preston, 
and they could not reach it without going into the 
water, it was of no use to think of taking a sail. They 
now walked along the edge of the pond, some distance, 
and after wandering some time in the woods, they re- 
turned home by a circuitous route. 

The annexed map of Brookdale will show the loca- 
tion of the pond, river, &c. Jerry lived in the house 
numbered 2. 

Oscar and Jerry spent the rest of the forenoon in the 
barn and wood-shed, and in the fields immediately 
around the house. After dinner, Mr. Preston told the 
boys they could have the horse and wagon, and as the 
family wanted some groceries, they might ride over to 
the store and get them. They accordingly tackled up 
the team, and were soon on their way. 


MAP OF BROOKDALE. 


211 


The store at which Mr. Preston traded was at the 
village where the stage left Oscar, which goes by the 
name of the “ Cross-Roads,” from the fact that two of 
the principal thoroughfares of that section of country 



cross at this point. Though this store was about live 
miles distant, there was no other one nearer to Mr. 
Preston’s. The boys had a fine ride over to the vil- 
lage. Oscar drove, and was quite anxious to put Billy 
to a test of his speed ; but as his uncle told them not 
to hurry, because the horse had been worked some in 


212 


THE VILLAGE ST0B3. 


the forenoon, he did not dare to make any experiment 
of this kind. Jerry assured him, however, that he once 
drove Billy over to the Cross-Roads in just twenty 
minutes, which was the quickest time he had ever been 
known to make. He thought this a remarkable feat ; 
but Oscar did not seem much astonished at it, and said 
he knew of horses that could go a mile in three min- 
utes, and even in less time if the road was smooth and 
level. 

After riding about three-quarters of an hour, they 
arrived at the Cross-Roads, and drove up to a post and 
chain for tying horses in front of the store. The store 
was kept in a large wooden building. Over the door 
was the sign, “ J. Fletcher, Variety Store and the 
shutters were covered with columns of names of articles 
sold within, such as “ Bacon,” “ Cheese,” “ Flour,” 
“Grain,” “ Shoes,”. “ Dry Goods,” &c. Another sign 
in one of the windows indicated that this was also the 
post-office of the village. 

The boys went into the store, and while Jerry was 
ordering the articles his mother had sent for, Oscar im- 
proved the opportunity to look around the premises. 
It was to him a queer assortment of goods. There 


A QUEER MEDLEY. 


213 


seemed to be a little of everything for sale. Here you 
could buy of one salesman articles that you could obtain 
in Boston only by visiting a dozen different shops. 
Groceries and dry goods, country produce and hard- 
ware, boots, shoes, and hats, confectionary and fancy 
articles, stoves and children’s toys, were in most neigh 
borly companionship. Before leaving the store, Oscar 
invested a few cents in candy and cigars ; for his father 
had given him a little spare change beyond what was 
necessary to defray the expenses of the journey. He 
shared the candy with Jerry, and put the cigars in his 
pocket for future use. 

Jerry having finished his business at the store, they 
set out on their return, and arrived home in safety and 
without meeting with any remarkable adventure. The 
boys employed themselves the rest of the afternoon in 
planning excursions and amusements, and before they 
got through, they had laid out “ fun” enough to occupy 
them for several days. 

The evenings were now quite short, and as it was the 
custom to retire to bed early at Mr. Preston’s, it fre- 
quently happened that no lamps were lit in the house 
for several days in succession. As twilight came on 


214 


DREAMING. 




„hat evening, Oscar, who began to feel pretty tired, laid 
down upon the sofa in the sitting-room, and in a few 
minutes was fast asleep. Jerry got a straw, and was 
about to tickle his ear, when his mother stopped him. 
Oscar’s nap, however, was a short one, and suddenly 
waking up, he began to laugh. 

“I guess you had a pleasant dream,” said his aunt. 

“ I had a real funny one,” replied Oscar. “ I thought 
you sent me over to the store to get some things, and 
when I got there, I had them all jumbled together in 
my head, and I told the man I wanted a yard of mo- 
lasses, and a pound of calico, and a gallon of shingle- 
nails, and I did n’t know what else. And I thought 
the man laughed, and asked me if I would take them 
loose, or have them done up in a rag. Then another boy 
that was in the store set up a loud laugh, and that woke 
me up. I wonder how long I slept — do you know, aunt ?” 

“ Only two or three minutes,” replied Mrs. Preston. 

“ I was real smart, then,” replied Oscar ; “ for you 
gave me my errand, and I harnessed the horse and 
drove away over to the Cross-Roads, and went through 
the scene in the store, and woke up again, all in two or 
three minutes. I thought I ’d been asleep half an hour.” 


BABIES. 


215 


“ I should think you ’d dream about the store,” said 
Jerry ; “ you ’ve made fun enough about it, if that ’s 
all” 

“ Well, I ’ll leave it to aunt if it is n’t odd to see such 
a queer lot of stuff in one store. I ’ve heard abou 
country stores, but I never saw one that would come 
up to that before. It is almost equal to going into a 
fair, to go in there. There was everything you could 
think of, from a grindstone to a pop-gun.” 

“ There is n’t business enough to support more than 
one trader, and that is the reason why Mr. Fletcher 
keeps such a variety,” said Mrs. Preston. 

“ I know that,” said Oscar, “ and I suppose the folks 
are glad to have him keep all sorts of knick-knacks ; 
but it seems queer to me, to see groceries and dry 
goods, and everything else, in the same shop.” 

“ Did you see any babies there ?” inquired little 
Mary, who was amusing herself by walking around the 
room backwards. 

“ What sort of babies — live ones, or rag ones, or 
wax ones inquired Oscar. 

“ No, none of them,” replied Mary ; “ I mean crying 
babies, like Annie Davenport’s.” 


216 


A FALL. 


“ 0, you mean those little dolls that make a squeak- 
ing noise when you squeeze them. No, I believe I 
did n’t see any,” said Oscar. 

“ No, Mr. Fletcher would n’t keep such silly things 
as them,” said Jerry, who was very fond of teasing his 
sisters. 

“No, they aint silly, either, are they cousin Oscar?” 
said Mary. 

“ No,” replied Oscar, “ seeing it ’s you, they aint 
silly.” 

Mary was continuing her backward walk around 
the room, and was just at that moment passing before 
Jerry, when he suddenly put out his foot, and stum- 
bling over it, she fell heavily upon the floor, striking 
her head against a corner of the sofa. A loud scream 
immediately followed this mishap, and as the author 
of it hastened to raise up his sister, he was himself a 
little frightened ; hut seeing no blood flowing from 
her head, he concluded she was “ more scared than 
hurt,” and tried to turn the affair into a joke, saying : 

“There, sis, you’re a little crying baby yourself, 
now. Come, stop your noise ; you ’ve blubbered 
enough about it. It didn’t hurt you, did it?” 


/ 


SENT TO BED. 


217 


“ Come here, dear, what is the matter ?” said Mrs. 
Preston, who had left the room a moment before, and 
hurried back on hearing Mary scream. 

“ Jerry knocked me over,” said Mary, sobbing bit- 
terly, a3 her mother lifted her up into her lap. 

“ Where did it hurt you, dear ? — there ? Well, let 
mother rub it, and it will feel better soon. Jerry is a 
naughty boy to do so. Why need you torment your 
little sister so ?” Mrs. Preston added, turning to J erry. 

Mr. Preston, who had been sitting upon the door- 
step, smoking his pipe, as was his custom in the even- 
ing, came in, on hearing the uproar ; and having ascer- 
tained what the trouble was, he boxed Jerry’s ears 
pretty severely, and sent him off to bed. Oscar soon 
followed him; but Jerry was so mortified at the 
rough handling he had received, that he scarcely spoke 
again that night. 

19 


CHAPTER XVI. 


IN THE AVOODS. 

JT was soon evident that the air of Brookdale agreed 
with Oscar. He was fast gaining his strength, and 
the increased fulness and color of his countenance be- 
tokened returning health. ISTo part of this improve- 
ment was to be attributed to the bottle of cough 
drops his mother packed away in the bottom of his 
valise, and charged him to take every morning and 
night; for the drops were not very palatable, and he 
had not opened the bottle since he left home. In fact, 
he had by this time quite forgotten both the medicine 
and his mother’s injunction. 

So rapid was the improvement in Oscar’s health, 
that two or three days after his trip to the Cross- 
Roads, Mr. Preston gave his consent to an excursion 
he and Jerry had planned, Avhich was to occupy a 
whole day. “Old Staple’s Hut,” as it was called, 


THE GUN. 


219 


was the place they proposed to visit. It was about 
four miles distant, beyond the hills in the north-east 
part of the town, represented in the upper corner of 
the map of Brookdale. They were to carry their din- 
ner, and Mrs. Preston accordingly filled a small basket 
with eatables. While she was doing this, Jerry took 
Oscar aside and said : 

“ There is one thing more we want, and that is fa- 
ther’s gun. I know he won’t let me have it, but I 
guess he would lend it to you, if you should ask him.” 

“ Yes, we must have a gun,” replied Oscar ; “ and I 
should just as lief ask him for it as not.” 

Oscar hunted up his uncle, and made known his re- 
quest. Mr. Preston hesitated a moment, and then in- 
quired : 

“ Does your father allow you to use a gun at home ?” 

“ He never says anything about it, either way,” re- 
plied Oscar. 

“ Well, I guess you had better not take the gun,” 
said Mr. Preston. “ I ’m afraid you might get hurt,— 
that ’s all I care about. I don’t allow Jerry to use fire- 
arms, and I should n’t like to put anything of the kind 
into your hands without your father’s consent.” 


220 


THE EXCURSION. 


“ But I ’ll be very careful if you ’ll let me have it,” 
added Oscar. “ I ’ve fired a gun several times, and 
know how to handle it.’* 

“ No, I think you had better not carry the gun with 
you,” replied his uncle. “ If you used it, J erry would 
think he must, and I know he is too careless to be 
trusted with it. He ’d shoot you, just as like as not, if 
he did n’t kill himself.” 

Mr. Preston’s tone was so decided, that Oscar saw It 
would be useless to say anything more about the gun, 
and so he and Jerry were obliged to abandon the idea 
of taking it with them. Taking their basket of pro- 
visions, they accordingly set out on their long tramp. 
Leaving the road, and turning into a footpath through the 
fields, they passed close by the upper edge of the pond. 
In this part of their walk there was a good deal of 
swamp land, and a number of brooks to cross. Some- 
times they had to pick their way along upon stones 
which had been placed at regular intervals in wet 
places, or upon old logs that served for bridges ; and 
at times it required no little skill in balancing to avoid 
getting a wet foot. After they had got beyond the 
pond, however, the land gradually ascended, and was 


THE BROOKS. 


221 


mostly occupied as pastures for cattle. But they still 
occasionally came to a brook, flowing down from the 
hills towards the pond. Most of them were so narrow, 
they could easily jump over them ; but in one instance 
they were obliged to take off their shoes and stockings 
and wade across. 

“ Now you see why this place is called Brookdale,” 
said Jerry, after they had passed four or five of these 
little streams. 

“Is that the reason, because there are so many 
brooks ? I never thought of that before,” said Oscar. 

“Yes, that’s it,” replied Jerry. “In the spring these 
brooks make quite a show ; but they get low in the 
summer, and generally dry up in August, unless it ’s a 
very wet season.” 

“ I ’m going to cut me a cane,” said Oscar, taking 
out his knife ; “ I see a real straight and handsome one 
in there,” and he pointed to a thicket they were ap- 
proaching. 

“ That ’s nothing but birch— that won’t make a good 
cane,” replied Jerry ; “ stop a minute, and I ’ll find you 
something better.” 

After looking about a little, Jerry found some 

19 * 


222 


MAKING CANES. 


beeches, which he said would make good canes. They 
accordingly cut two of the straightest and handsomest. 

“ I mean to try an experiment with mine,” said Os- 
car, “ and see if I can’t crook the top of it. Do you 
know how they do it, Jerry 2” 

“No, I always thought they grew in that shape,” re- 
plied Jerry. 

“ A man told me they boiled the end of the stick 
and then bent it,” said Oscar. “ He said that was the 
way all the hooked canes were made. I don’t know 
whether he knew or not, but I mean to try it some 
day, and see how it works.” 

“ I don’t believe in that,” said Jerry. “ It is n’t very 
likely you can bend such a stick as that without break- 
ing it ; just see how stiff it is.” 

“ I don’t care, I ’ll try it, just to satisfy myself,” re- 
plied Oscar. 

Oscar was right in regard to bending wood. The 
hooked-top walking-sticks are made in the way he de- 
scribed, — by boiling the end, and then bending it into 
an arch. In boiling wood, several substances which 
enter into its composition are dissolved, and others are 
softened, so that it is rendered flexible. 


THE CIGARS. 


2B3 


The bovs trudged slowly on their way, now aided 
by their canes, which, in a long walk, are of no slight 
service to the pedestrian. As they sauntered along, 
chatting, singing, and whistling, as merrily as the birds 
around them, Oscar remembered the cigars he bought 
at the store, and soon the pure atmosphere of the fields 
was polluted with the vile odor of bad tobacco. Oscar 
had been in the habit of smoking occasionally for some 
time ; but though he considered it a manly accomplish- 
ment, he was very careful not to let his parents know 
that he was addicted to it. He prevailed upon his 
cousin to take a cigar ; but Jerry was not very partial 
to tobacco, and a few whiffs satisfied him for that occa- 
sion. 

They had now reached the foot of the long, steep 
hills, over which they must climb. These hills were 
thickly wooded most of the way, forming beautiful 
groves, cool, dark, fragrant with resinous odors, and 
softly carpeted with moss and decayed leaves. Oscar 
and Jerry concluded to rest a few minutes before scal- 
ing the hills. Selecting a favorable spot, they stretched 
themselves at full length upon the ground, and looked 
up towards the distant tree-tops. It was a pine forest, 


224 


THE ROBIN. 


and the trees were as straight as an arrow, and so tall 
that their tops almost seemed among the clouds. The 
moaning of the wind among the topmost branches 
sounded like the distant roar of the sea. Birds were 
skipping merrily among the “ tasselled boughs,” and cu- 
riously eying the young strangers who had invaded 
their solitude. 

“ 0, how I wish I had that gun now !” said Oscar, as 
a fine plump robin lit on one of the lower branches of 
a tree right over his head. 

In repay for this generous wish, Signor Robin execut- 
ed one of his choicest songs in his handsomest style, 
and, without waiting for an encore from his audience, 
darted off and was quickly out of sight. But it is 
probable the audience thought more of the “ good 
shot” he presented, than of the sweet strains he poured 
forth for their entertainment. 

“There’s better game than that in these woods,” said 
Jerry, after the robin had taken his departure. 

“ Is there anything besides birds ?” inquired Oscar. 

“Yes,” replied Jerry, “ there are rabbits, and wood- 
chucks, and weasels, and skunks, and squirrels ; and 
some folks say there are wild-cats here, but I don’t 


WILD ANIMALS. 


225 


know about that. Jim Oakley, a fellow who lives * 
about a mile from our house, comes over here gunning 
very often ; and he says he saw a real savage-looking 
creature here, a few weeks ago, that he took to be a 
wild-cat. He fired at it, but it got clear of him. He 
says it looked a good deal like a cat, only it was 
larger, and had a little short tail. I wish he ’d killed 
it. I should like to know what it was. I never saw 
a wild-cat ; did you ?” 

“No,” replied Oscar. 

“ But that was n’t equal to something a man came 
across in the woods the other side of these hills, two 01 
three years ago,” continued Jerry. “What do you 
suppose it was ?” 

“ I don’t know ; was it a moose ?” inquired Oscar. 

“ No,” replied Jerry ; “ moose come down into this 
neighborhood, once in awhile, but that was n’t what 
I was going to tell you about. There is a road through 
these woods, a little beyond the hills. It is n’t trav- 
elled much, except by the loggers in the fall and 
spring. A man was riding along this road, one after- 
noon in summer, when he suddenly came across a 
monstrous black bear. As soon as the bear saw him, 


226 


MEETING A BEAR. 


he squat down on his haunches, right in the middle 
of the road, and began to show his teeth. The man 
did n’t dare to drive by him, and his horse was so 
frightened that it was as much as he could do to hold 
him in. He had a loaded revolver with him, but he 
knew there was n’t much hope of killing the bear with 
that. So he turned his horse about, and concluded to 
go back to the nearest house, and get a gun and some- 
body to help him kill the bear. The bear sat still, 
watching him, as much as to say, 1 If you ’ll let me 
alone, I ’ll let you alone ;’ but just as the man was 
starting up, he thought he would try his pistol, and so 
he blazed away at the bear. Two or three of the shot 
hit the bear in the shoulder. They did n’t hurt him 
much, only enough to rouse his dander ; but he sprang 
up as quick as lightning, and started after the team. 
The man whipped up his horse, and the bear 4 pulled 
foot’ after him, and did n’t give up the race till he had 
run about a quarter of a mile. The man said if he 
had been afoot, the bear would have beat him at run- 
ning, but he could n’t keep up with the horse. 

“Well, the man went back three or four miles, and 
got another man to go with him in search of the be.ai. 


WHERE HE CAME FROM. 


227 


They armed themselves with guns and hunting-knives ; 
but when they drove back to where the man met the 
bear, they could n’t find anything of him. They traced 
his tracks into the woods, but after awhile they lost 
them, and as it was getting late, they gave up the 
hunt ; and nobody hereabouts has seen that bear from 
that day to this.” 

“ Perhaps he ’s about here now — who knows ?” said 
Oscar. 

“No, I guess he went right back to the place he 
came from,” replied Jerry. 11 Somebody would have 
seen him, if he ’d stayed around here.” 

“ Where do you suppose he came from ?” inquired 
Oscar. 

“ From way back in the woods, fifty miles from here,” 
replied J erry. “ There had been great fires in the 
woods that summer, and I suppose he got burned 
out, or frightened, and that was the reason he came 
down this way.” 

“ I should like to meet such a customer,” said Oscar ; 
“ only I should want to have a good double-barrelled 
gun with me. I read in a newspaper, the other day, 
about a boy up in New Hampshire, who met a bear 


228 


PROSPECT ROCK. 


and two cubs, all alone in the woods. He had a gun 
with him, and killed the old one, and one of the cubs , 
but the other cub got off. That was doing pretty well, 
was n’t it V ’ 

“ ’Twas so,” said Jerry ; “ but I guess you would n’t 
have done quite so well as that.” 

“ I bet I should have tried, at any rate,” said Oscar, 
who really was not deficient in courage, though he had 
hardly practiced hunting enough to justify him in be- 
lieving that he could master so savage an animal as a 
bear. 

Having rested themselves, the boys resumed their 
journey, and after ten minutes’ hard work, reached the 
top of the range of hills. The highest summit was a 
bare ledge of rock, and they concluded to climb to the 
top of it, for the sake of the view to be obtained. It 
was called “ Prospect Rock,” and was very appropriately 
named. As the boys stood upon it, the country for 
miles around was spread out at their feet, — houses, and 
cultivated fields, and forests, and roads, and narrow 
streams. A distant mountain was visible in the west, 
which J erry said was about twenty miles off, though it 
seemed much nearer. After enjoying the scene a few 


THE WOODCHUCK’S HOLE. 


229 


minutes, they began to descend the hill on the other 
side. They kept their eyes open, for game, but they 
saw only a few squirrels, and one rabbit, which bounded 
off, and was out of sight in a moment. Jerry pointed 
out to Oscar a woodchuck’s hole, near the foot of the 
hill. 

“ I should like to see a woodchuck,” said Oscar ; 
“ what do they look like ?” 

“They’re about as big as a rabbit, and are of a 
brownish color,” replied Jerry. 

“ Do you suppose there ’s one in that hole ?” inquired 
Oscar ; “ let ’s see if we can’t scare him out.” 

“ I don’t know whether there is or not,”' replied 
Jerry; “but if there was, we couldn’t dig him out 
without shovels. They burrow real deep. If we had 
brought a dog with us, how he would dig into that 
hole !” 

“ I wish I had my Tiger here,” said Oscar ; “ it ’s too 
bad father would n’t let me bring him with me.” 

Oscar thrust his cane into the hole, but did not reach 
the end of it; and if the occupant of the tenement 
was within, he did not think it worth while to show 

himself. The boys according] v renewed their journey. 

20 


230 


THE HUT. 


After they had reached the foot of the hill, they nad to 
cross a swamp. With its wet and miry bottom, and 
its dense growth of vines, bushes, and small trees, this 
was no easy matter ; but they succeeded in gettting 
through with no damage save wet feet, a few slight 
scratches, and a good many mosquito bites. This lat- 
ter trouble was the most serious of all. The mosquitoes 
were large and ferocious. They bit right through 
jacket, vest, and all, and Oscar declared that their 
sharp stings even penetrated his boots. 

After the boys emerged from the swamp, they came 
to the road in which the man met a bear. They fol- 
lowed this road a short distance, till it brought them to 
the shore of a large and beautiful pond. Leaving the 
highway, they now walked along by the edge of the 
water, and soon came to the old hut they were in pur- 
suit of. It was but a few rods from the pond, and was 
directly under the brow of a steep and rocky hill. It 
had a very old and decayed appearance. The roof had 
fallen in, the door had disappeared, and the single win- 
dow was without sash or glass. It contained but one 
apartment, and that was very small, and so choked up 
with rubbish that the boys did not try to enter. 


THE HERMIT. 


231 


“ Well, that must have been a great place for a man 
to live in,” said Oscar, after he had inspected the prem- 
ises. “ How long has the old fellow been dead ?” 

“I don’t know,” said Jerry; “it must be fifteen 
years, for he died before I was born.” 

“ I wonder what he lived here for ; does anybody 
know ? n inquired Oscar. 

“No, he was a hermit, and that’s all anybody knows 
about him. They say he used to have a garden, and 
raised everything he wanted to eat. In the summer 
time he used to work a good deal for two or three 
farmers that lived over at Cedar Hill, at the further end 
of the pond. He had a little skiff, and rowed back and 
forth in that. He never used to spend any money, and 
people say he must have had all of a thousand dollars, 
that he had earned, when he died ; but nobody knew 
what became of it. They suppose he buried it about 
here somewhere, or hid it in some rock.” 

“ A thousand dollars !” said Oscar ; “I’m going to 
hunt for that ; what will you bet I won’t find it ?” 

“ Pooh !” replied Jerry,. “ people have searched all 
round here, and dug holes, and pulled up the floor of 


232 


THE FIRE. 


the hut, more than a hundred times ; and I guess 
there ’s no danger of your finding the money now.” 

“ I ’m going to try, at any rate,” said Oscar, and he 
got up from the stone upon which he was seated. 

“ Stop, don’t go now,” said Jerry ; “ let ’s make a fire 
nd get dinner first — I ’m just about half starved.” 

Oscar fell in with this suggestion, and they gathered 
together a lot of brush and other dry wood, and soon 
had a good fire kindled against a large stone, which 
happened to be hollowed out something like a fire- 
place. Among the provisions they had brought with 
them were half a dozen potatoes, which they buried 
in the embers after the fire had got well under way. 
While these were baking, they employed themselves in 
gathering wood and watching the fire. They also 
found some slices of cheese in their basket, which they 
toasted by holding it before the fire upon the point of 
a sharp stick. When their preparations for dinner 
were about completed, Oscar inquired : 

“ Where shall we find some water to drink ? Is 
there a spring about here?” 

“Water, why, there’s plenty of it,” replied Jerry 
pointing to the pond. 


DINNER IN THE WOODS., 


233 



“What! you don’t mean to drink pond water, do 
vou ?” said Oscar, somewhat surprised. 

“Yes I do,” replied Jerry; “that’s good water — 
old Staples drank it all the time he lived here.” 


“ Well, come to think of it, I suppose it is good,” 
said Oscar ; “ for our Cochituate water, in Boston, is 
nothing hut pond water. It seems queer, though, to 
dip it right out of the pond ; but I suppose it is just as 

good as though we drew it from an aqueduct.” 

20 * 


» 


234 


DINNER. 


There was a tin dipper in the basket, and Oscar took 
it, and went down to the pond, to try the water. He 
found it clear, and agreeable to the taste, though not 
very cold. Filling the dipper, he returned to the fire, 
where Jerry now had the dinner in readiness. They 
found a large flat stone, which answered for a table, 
and spreading their provisions upon it, they threw 
themselves upon the grass, and began to eat. The 
potatoes were nicely roasted, and, indeed, all the ar- 
ticles that helped to form their rural repast, tasted un- 
commonly well. Even the pond water, Oscar con- 
fessed, would have been equal to the Cochituate, if 
they had only had a little ice to put in it. 

After dinner, Oscar commenced his search for the 
hidden treasures, and Jerry, impelled by sympathy, 
joined in the hunt, though with no very sanguine 
expectations of finding the hermit’s gold. They ex- 
amined the hut, and poked over the rubbish, within 
and about it. They walked over the ground, around 
the cabin, turning over stones, looking after holes in 
the trunks of trees, and peering curiously into every 
crack and crevice they could find. They then climbed 
up the rocks behind the hut, and patiently continued 


HUNTING FOR GOLD. 235 

♦ 

tlieir search, talking earnestly, the meanwhile, about 
what they should do with the money, if they fouud it. 
Oscar said if he found the money, he should buy the 
best horse he could find. He should not go to school 
any more, but should spend his time in riding, and 
going to places of amusement. If his father did not 
like it, he should leave home, and board at a hotel. 
Jerry, on the other hand, wanted to see the world. If 
he found the money, he was going to travel all over 
the country. After visiting the great Atlantic cities, 
he should go to California, and stop a few months, 
just long enough to dig a few thousand dollars out of 
the mines — and then he should push on to China, and 
India, and Europe, and come home in one of the Col- 
lins steamers. It was finally agreed, however, that if 
either of them found the treasure, it should be equally 
divided between them, and with this friendly under- 
standing, they renewed their search, with fresh zeal. 

“ It ’s real hot ; what do you say about going into 
water ?” inquired Oscar, after they had ransacked the 
neighborhood pretty thoroughly, and worked them- 
selves into a perspiration. 

“ I ’ll go in if you will,” said Jerry. l( Father did n’t 


236 


BATHING. 


tell us not to go in to-day — I was afraid lie would ; but 
be did n’t say anything about it.” 

“ He need n’t know it, if we do go in,” suggested 
Oscar, who knew very well that his uncle would not 
ajiprove of his bathing so early in the season, and so 
soon after his sickness. 

“No, he won’t know anything about it,” added 
Jerry ; “ and I don’t believe it can do us any hurt, for 
it is as warm as it is in the middle of summer. I ’ve 
been into water many a time, when it was colder than 
it is now.” 

They did not debate the question long, but throwing 
off their clothes, they soon plunged into the clear lake. 
The water did not feel quite so warm to their bodies, 
as it tasted when they washed down their dinner with 
it. Still, it was not very cold ; and as the place was 
quite convenient for bathing, having a hard, gravelly 
bottom, with a gradual slope, they enjoyed their dip 
in the water as well as they could enjoy a forbidden 
gratification. 

After they had dressed themselves, they sat a little 
while with their caps off, that the warm sun might dry 
their hair, and thus remove all evidence of their stolen 


GOING HOME. 


237 


pleasure. This accomplished, they concluded, from the 
position of the sun, that it was time to start for home ; 
and taking their basket and canes, they commenced 
their homeward march. They met with no incident 
of any moment in returning, except that they got off 
their course at one time ; but Jerry, who was quite at 
home in the woods, soon found where he was, and set 
himself right again. The last two miles of their jaunt 
were the hardest of all, especially to Oscar, who was 
more troubled with sore feet and stiff legs than Jerry. 
They were both, however, as tired and hungry as need 
be, when they got home. 

No questions were asked about their going into 
water. This was fortunate, for it probably saved them 
from the additional guilt of falsehood. They expe- 
rienced no punishment for their disobedience, except 
the consciousness that they had committed a wrong 
act. To some boys, that alone would have been no 
slight punishment ; but I fear this was not the case 
with Oscar and Jerry. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


CLINTON. 

“ QOME, Jerry, let ’s go over to Clinton’s this fore* 
non,” said Oscar, the morning after their excur- 
sion to the hermit’s hut . 

‘‘Agreed,” replied Jerry, “we’ll start right away as 
soon as I can find my cap. Let me see — where did I 
leave it, I wonder ?” 

“Jerry,” said Mrs. Preston, who overheard this con* 
versation, “ bring me in an armfull of wood before you 
go.” 

“ I ’ll get the wood while you ’re looking for your 
cap,” said Oscar, and he started for the wood-house. 

Oscar almost repented of his offer when he discover 
ed that there was no wood split. However, he took 
the axe and split a few logs, and carried them into the 
kitchen. Jerry had not yet found his cap, though he 


THE LOST CAP. 


239 


had searched all over the house for it. He began to 
suspect some one had played a trick upon him by hid- 
ing his cap, and when Emily laughed at his impatience, 
he concluded she was the guilty one. In vain she pro- 
tested that she had not seen the missing cap, and did 
not know where it was. He searched every part of the 
girls’ chamber, and then, in his vexation, he pulled 
Emily’s bonnet from off her head, and tossed it out of 
the window into an apple-tree, in the branches of 
which it lodged. 

It w r as now Emily’s turn to fly into a pet, and she 
availed herself of the opportunity. Running to her 
mother, she reported what Jerry had done, setting off 
his foolish conduct in the worst possible light. Jerry 
soon made his appearance in the kitchen, and retorted 
upon his sister by charging her with having hid his 
cap. Mrs. Preston tried to settle the difficulty by di- 
recting Jerry to get Emily’s bonnet out of the tree, and 
ordering Emily to tell Jerry where his cap was, if she 
knew ; but Emily protested she knew nothing about 
the cap, and her brother did not seem inclined to obey 
his portion of the decree, while his sister failed to com- 
ply with hers. The quarrel was thus becoming more 


240 


BUTTERMILK. 


and more complicated, when Oscar suddenly entered 
the room with the lost cap in his hand. 

“ Here’s your cap, Jerry,” he said ; “ I found it just 
where you left it last night, out in the barn. Don’t 
you remember, you threw it at the cat to scare her ?” 

“ O yes, so I did, and I forgot to pick it up again,” 
said Jerry. 

“ There, do you believe me now ?’ said Emily, with 
an air of triumph. 

Jerry did not stop to reply ; but, going into the gar- 
den, he climbed the apple-tree, and tossed the bonnet 
down to Emily. 

“ Now I ’m ready to start, just as soon as I ’ve had a 
drink of buttermilk,” said Jerry to Oscar ; “ come into 
the buttery and get some, won’t you ?” 

There was only one bowl-full of buttermilk left from 
the morning’s churning, but Mrs. Preston told the boys 
they might have that. Jerry proposed that they should 
“ go snacks,” and gave the bowl to Oscar that he might 
drink his share first. The latter took one mouthful, 
but quickly spit it out, and puckered his face into all 
sorts of shapes. 

“ Ugh !” he exclaimed, “ you don’t call that sour stuff 


THE HENS. 


241 


good, do you ?” and he handed the bowl back to Jerry, 
with a look that would have soured the buttermilk, if 
it had not already undergone that process. 

As soon as Jerry could get over laughing at his cou- 
sin’s grimaces, he swallowed the contents of the bowl, 
and then, smacking his lips, said : 

“ There, don’t you think I like it ? You just drink 
it a few times, and then see if you don’t like it, too. I 
could drink a quart of it now if I had it.” 

“ You may have it, for all me ; I don’t want any 
more of it,” replied Oscar. 

“ Jerry, have the hens been attended to ?” inquired 
Mrs. Preston, as the boys were about starting from 
home. 

“ I don’t know — I have n’t fed them,” replied Jerry. 

“ You ought to know whether they are seen to cr 
not ; it ’s your business to take care of them,” said his 
mother. “ Don’t you go off this morning till you have 
fed them. You ought to have done it an hour ago.” 

The care of the fowls had been committed to Jerry, 
but he did not feel much interest in them, and needed 
to be reminded of his duty pretty often. His negli- 
gence had been more marked than ever since Oscar’s ar- 
21 






242 


A MYSTERIOUS LETTER. 


rival, and more than once the hens had been without 
food and water nearly a whole day because he forgot to 
attend to them. Jerry now went back, in obedience to 
his mother, and gave the fowls their usual allowance of 
corn, and a vessel of fresh water. He also looked into 
the nests to see if there were any new-laid eggs ; and 
he was not a little surprised to find in one of them a 
small billet, neatly folded up, and addressed, “ To Mas- 
ter Jerry" He looked at it a moment, and tried to 
imagine what it could be ; then he opened it, and read 
the following, which was neatly written with a pencil : 

“The Henroost, June 12th. 

“ Master Jerry : 

“ I have determined to write you a few words 
in behalf of my dear suffering family. The sun is 
scorching hot, and yet we have not got a drop of water 
to save us from parching up. My poor biddies have 
been walking back and forth all day, panting for water, 
and calling for it as plainly as they could speak ; but 
all in vain. We have received our food at very irregu- 
lar times, too, and sometimes we have had to keep fast 
nearly all day. If I were the only sufferer, I would 
say nothing about it ; but I cannot bear to see my poor 
flock dying by inches in this way. Do take pity on 
us, and see that we have plenty of corn and water 
hereafter. Some of my family, who pride themselves 


THE ROOSTER’S COMPLAINT. 243 


on being good layers, complain that since you have 
kept us shut up in such narrow quarters they cannot 
find anything to make their egg-shells of. Now, if you 
would give us some old burnt bones, pounded up fine, 
or a little lime, once in awhile, I do not think you 
would lose anything by it. And as you will not let us 
go out to scratch for ourselves, what is the reason tha 
you cannot dig us a few worms occasionally 2 It would 
be a great treat to us. I hope you will heed my sug- 
gestions. If you do not, I can assure you of two things : 
you won’t have many eggs this summer ; and fat chick- 
ens will be a scarce article in this neighborhood next 
Thanksgivjng time. But Mrs. Yellowneck has just laid 
an egg, and I must help her cackle over it ; so I will 
write nothing more at present, but sign myself 
“ Your faithful, but afflicted, 

Shanghae Rooster.” 

Before Jerry had finished reading this mysterious 
letter, Oscar, who wondered at his long absence, went 
to see what the matter was, and found his cousin deep- 
ly absorbed in the document. After Jerry had read it, 
he handed it to Oscar, telling him where he found it. 

“ Well, that is queer,” said Oscar, after he had rea 
it. “ Who do you suppose wrote it 2” 

“I know where it came from well enough,” said 
Jerry • * keep dark — don’t say anything about it,” he 


244 


CLINTON. 


added, as he put the letter in his pocket. Then step- 
ping to the kitchen-window, he inquired, “ Mother, was 
Clinton over here yesterday ?” 

“I believe he was,” replied Mrs. Preston. 

“ That accounts for it,” said Jerry to Oscar ; “ that 
etter sounds just like Clinton. I knew he wrote it 
just as soon as I saw it.” 

“ But can he write as well as that ?” inquired Oscar. 

“ Yes, he ’s a very good writer,” replied Jerry. 
“He ought to he, for he has to get a lesson every 
day, just as though he went to school, and recite to his 
mother in the evening. I wish I knew as much as he 
does, but I should n’t want to study so hard.” 

They had now started on their way to Clinton’s. 
The Shanghae letter continued to be the topic of re- 
mark for some time. It was finally concluded that 
they should say nothing to Clinton about it. To tell 
the truth, Jerry felt a little mortified at the deserved 
rebuke he had received, and he thought the easiest 
way to get over it would be, to pretend that the letter 
had never reached its destination. 

Clinton Davenport, the suspected author of this letter, 
lived in the nearest house to Mr. Preston’s. The house 


HIS HOME. 


245 


is marked 1, on the map of Brookdale. He was three 
or four months younger than Jerry, and, like him, was 
an only son. They had been intimate playmates from 
early childhood, though their tastes and dispositions 
were very different. Clinton was an industrious boy. 
He liked to work, and took an interest in all his father’s 
plans and labors. He was an ingenious boy, too; 
and, in addition to his other commendable traits, he 
was a good scholar. 

Oscar had seen Clinton once or twice, at Jerry’s 
house, but this was his first visit to him. They 
soon came in the sight of the house. It was a neat, 
but plain cottage, situated near the foot of a hill. 
There were several noble oaks around it, and many 
fruit trees in the rear. Luxuriant vines were trained 
around and over the front door. A large and substan- 
tial barn stood a little one side, and back from the road, 
with its great doors swung open. On a tall pole, be- 
hind the house, there was a complete miniature of the 
cottage, which appeared to be occupied by a family of 
birds, who were constantly flying back and forth. This 
pretty birdhouse Clinton had made with his own hands 
the previous winter. 

21 * 


246 


CATERPILLARS. 


When Oscar and Jerry reached the house, they saw 
Clinton doing something in the orchard, behind the 
buildings, and they walked along towards him. They 
found him employed in destroying caterpillars’ nests, 
in the apple-trees. He had a light ladder, with which 
he ascended the trees ; and having his hands protected 
by a pair of old gloves, he swept down the nests, and 
destroyed the young caterpillars by the hundred. 

“ This is n’t very pleasant work,” said Clinton, “ but 
it has got to be done. I ’ve been all over the orchard 
this morning, and this is the last tree I Ve got to ex- 
amine. I shall be done in a few minutes, and then I ’ll 
walk around with you.” 

“ I should like to know where all these caterpillars 
come from,” said Oscar ; “ do they come up from the 
ground?” 

“Ho,” replied Clinton. “A miller lays the eggs, 
the summer before, on a branch of the tree, and there 
they stay till about the first of June ; then they hatch 
out, and build their nest. The nests look something 
like tents, don’t you see they do ?” 

“ Yes, so they do,” said Oscar. 

“ That ’s the reason they are called tent-caterpillars. 


LITTLE TURKEYS. 


247 


There are three or four hundred of them in every nest. 
In about a month from now, they would all turn into 
millers, if nobody disturbed them, and lay millions of 
eggs for next year’s crop.” 

“ That ’s curious — I ’ve learnt something new by 
coming here,” said Oscar. 

“ There, I believe that ’s all,” said Clinton, as he 
cast his eye over the tree ; “ now come and see my 
turkeys.” 

Jerry slyly winked at Oscar, and both thought of 
the Shanghae rooster’s letter ; but they said nothing, 
and followed Clinton to a tree near the barn, where 
there was a large, motherly hen, surrounded by her 
happy brood. They were young turkeys, but it was 
all the same to the poor simple hen. She had set four 
weeks upon the eggs from which they were hatched, 
and no wonder she honestly believed they were her own 
children. To confess the truth, they did look so much 
like chickens, that a city boy like Oscar would hardly 
have suspected they were turkeys, if he had not been 
told that they were. They were black, and of about 
the size of chickens of their age. They had also the 
sh arp, piping cry of genuine chickens. But their necks 


248 


THE CHICKENS. 


were a little longer than usual, and that was almost the 
only badge of their turkeyhood. The hen was cor fined 
to the tree by a string, to prevent her roving off. A 
barrel turned upon its side, served them for a house at 
night. 

There was another hen, confined under a tree near 
by, which was the proud mother of a large brood of 
chickens. There were about twenty-five of them, but 
though they now constituted one brood, they were 
hatched by two hens. Clinton said he usually managed 
to set two hens together, so that one of them might 
bring up all the chickens, thereby saving some trouble 
for himself, as well as one hen’s time, which was of 
some value to him. Hens do not seem to have much 
knowledge of arithmetic, and biddy was apparently un- 
conscious of any difference between twelve and five-and- 
twenty. 

A loud and prolonged “ Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o” now 
attracted Oscar to the hen-yard near by, behind the 
barn, where the rest of Clinton’s poultry were confined. 
It was a large enclosure, connected with a shed, in which 
the fowls roosted and laid their eggs. Its occupants, 
and indeed all the poultry on the place were the ex- 


MAKING MONEY. 


249 


elusive property of Clinton, and he took the entire man- 
agement of them in his own hands. He raised the 
corn they consumed on a patch of ground his father 
gave him for the purpose. He sold his eggs, chickens, 
and turkeys to whom he pleased, and kept a regular 
account in a book of all his business transactions. Of 
course, all the money he made was his own, and he told 
Oscar he had nearly seventy-five dollars in the bank, 
which he had earned in this way. 

“ I don’t see how you do it,” said Jerry ; “ I couldn’t 
make anything that way if I should try. I don’t be- 
lieve our hens more than pay their way, if they do 
that.” 

“ If you should manage as I do, I guess you would 
make something,” replied Clinton. 

“Ho, it isn’t my luck,” said Jerry; “if I worked 
ever so hard, I should n’t be any better off for it.” 

I don’t believe that,” said Clinton ; “ there ’s no 
luck about it. Any boy could make out just as well as 
I have done, if he took the same trouble. You try it, 
now, and see.” 

“ Ho, I shan’t try, for I know just as well as I want 
to, how it would tuf 1 out,” replied Jerry. 


250 


THE BARN. 


“ How can you know if you never tried it ?” inquired 
Clinton. 

Jerry did not answer this question, and perhaps he 
could not. He preferred to comfort himself with the 
foolish plea of the lazy, that he was not one of “ the 
lucky ones,” and it was useless for him to think of suc- 
ceeding in anything of that kind. 

Clinton did not make the most distant allusion to 
the Shanghae Rooster’s letter, although Jerry felt sure 
that he knew all about it. The latter also avoided all 
reference to it. Oscar could hardly keep from intro- 
ducing the matter, but his cousin’s injunction to “ keep 
dark” prevailed, and he was able to restrain his impa- 
tient tongue. 

The boys now took a look at the piggery, where 
they found several fat, dignified grunters, together with 
a family of little squealers, who seemed quite too clean 
and delicate to occupy such an enclosure. They then 
went all over the great barn, which happened to be 
tenantless, the cows being at pasture and the oxen an 
horse off at work. Oscar’s attention was attracted to a 
scrap cut from a newspaper, which was pasted upon 
one of the posts of the horse’s stall. It read as follows : 


LITTLE ANNIE. 


251 


“the horse’s prayer. 

“ Up hill, spare thou me ; 

Down hill, take care of thee ; 

On level ground, spare me not, 

Nor give me water when I ’m hot.” 

Clinton said he found these lines in a newspaper 
about the time he began to drive alone, and he stuck 
them up upon the stall that he might not forget them. 

“ Hallo, who is this ?” inquired Oscar, as a little 
curly-haired girl of six years came tripping into the 
barn. 

The little girl to whom the inquiry was addressed 
turned a shy and roguish look towards the strange boy, 
and then edged along to Clinton, and nestled her little 
hand in his. 

“Can’t you tell him who you are?” inquired Clinton. 
“ He came all the way from Boston, where cousin Ettie 
and cousin Willie live. He ’s Jerry’s cousin, and little 
Mary Preston’s cousin. Now you ’ll tell him what your 
name is, won’t you ?” 

“Annie Davenport — that’s my name,” she replied, 
in her artless, winning way. 

“ Then you ’re Clinton’s sister, are you ?” inquired 
Oscar. 


252 


WHISTLER. 


“ Yes, and he ’s my brother,” she quickly added, 
with a proud look that greatly amused the boys. 

“ Did you say you have a cousin Willie in Boston, 
Clinton ?” continued Oscar. 

“ Yes, Willie Davenport,” replied Clinton. 

“ I know him — he ’s about your size, is n’t he ? and 
his father is a lawyer ?” 

“ Yes, that ’s him — why, I want to know if you know 
him ?” 

“0 yes; he goes to our school. The boys have 
nicknamed him Whistler, because he whistles so much ; 
but he ’s a real clever fellow, for all that. My brother 
Ralph is quite intimate with him. It ’s strange that I 
never knew before that he had relations down here,” 
added Oscar. 

“Do you know his sister, Ettie?” inquired Clinton. 

“Ho, I never saw her,” replied Oscar. 

“ Come into the house with me, — I must tell mother 
we Ve heard from Boston,” said Clinton. 

They all entered the house, and Mrs. Davenport was 
soon informed of the pleasant discovery they had made, 
and had many questions to ask concerning her Boston 
friends. Oscar seemed to become at once an old ac- 


THE SHOP. 


253 


quaintance. The fact that he was a schoolmate of 
Willie gave him a direct passport to the good graces 
of all the family. When Oscar called to mind his pe- 
culiar relations towards Willie, this unlooked-for friend- 
ship was not particularly agreeable to him ; for he was 
not, and never had been, on very friendly terms with 
Clinton’s cousin. This, however, was more than he 
dared say to Clinton, and so he concealed his dislike of 
Willie as well as he could. 

After sitting in the house a little while, Clinton in- 
vited Oscar and Jerry into the “ shop,” which was a 
room back of the kitchen, where Mr. Davenport kept a 
variety of carpenter’s tools. Here, in cold and stormy 
weather, Clinton’s father mended his broken tools and 
implements, and performed such other jobs as were re- 
quired. Clinton, too, spent many odd moments at the 
work-bench, and patient practice had made him quite a 
neat and skilful workman. He showed the boys sev- 
eral boxes, a pine table, and a cricket, made entirely by 
his own hands, which would have done no discredit to 
a regular carpenter. 

After remaining an hour or two with Clinton, Oscar 

and Jerry started for home, well pleased with their visit. 

22 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE LETTER. 

w QSCAR, you have n’t written home since you came 
down here, have you?” inquired Mr. Preston 
one morning at the breakfast table. 

“ No, sir,” replied Oscar. 

“ Well, you ought to write,” added Mr. Preston ; 
“ your mother told you to, and I suppose she has been 
jooking for a letter every day for a week or more. It ’s 
over a fortnight since you left home, and your folks 
will feel anxious about you, if they don’t hear from you 
soon. You ’d better write a letter to them this morn- 
ing, before you do anything else, and then it will be 
out of the way. I shall either go or send over to the 
post-office to-day, and the letter will start for Boston to- 
morrow morning, and get there. the next day.” 

“ 0 dear, T hate to write,” said Oscar. “ Why can’t 
you write to mother, aunt, and tell her how I am ?” 


LETTER - WRITING. 


255 


“No, no,” said Mr. Preston, “that won’t do. You 
promised your mother that you would write yourself, 
and she ’ll expect to hear from you, and not from some- 
body else. Your aunt can write, if she chooses, but 
you must write too. I ’ll give you a pen and some pa 
per and ink after breakfast, and you can write just a 
much as you please.” 

“ I guess it won’t be much — I don’t know how to 
write a letter,” replied Oscar. 

“ A boy of your age not know how to write a letter 
— and been all your lifetime to such grand schools as 
they have in Boston, too ! I don’t believe that,” said 
Mr. Preston, shaking his head. 

“ I shall have to go and see the Shanghae Rooster,” 
said Oscar, looking at Jerry very knowingly. 

Jerry laughed at this allusion, but the others did not 
appear to understand its meaning. It was evident that 
they were innocent of all knowledge of the mysterious 
letter ; and as Jerry wished them to remain so, he 
adroitly turned the remark by replying : 

“ No you won’t — father has got plenty of steel 
pens.” 

After breakfast, Mr. Preston told Oscar to follow 


256 


THE LITTLE BOOM. 


him. They went up stairs, and Mr. P. took a key from 
his pocket, and unlocked the door of what was known 
by the name of 11 the private room.” It was a very 
small apartment, and was originally designed for a 
closet or store-room ; but Mr. Preston now used it as a 
sort of office. Here he kej>t his business papers, and 
here he did what little writing he had to do. There 
was one window in the room, which looked out upon 
the garden in the rear of the house. The furniture 
consisted of a chair, a small portable desk, placed upon 
a table, an old map of the State of Maine, a diction- 
ary, almanac, and several other odd volumes and 
pamphlets. 

“ There,” said Mr. Preston, “ you may sit right down 
to my desk, and write as long as you please, if you 
won’t disturb my papers. There are paper, ink, pens, 
and wafers — you can use what you want. When you 
get done, lock the door, and give the key to your aunt.” 

Oscar found there was no backing out from a letter 
this time ; so he sat down, and tried to make up his 
mind to face the dreaded duty. He heard his uncle 
tell the children not to interrupt him, till he had fin. 
ished his letter ; and when Mr. Preston and his man 


MAKING A BEGINNING. 


257 


James went off to work, Jerry accompanied them. Os- 
car was thus left to himself. After thinking about the 
matter a few moments, he dipped his pen in the ink- 
stand, and, having consulted the almanac, wrote the 
proper date for the letter, together with the address, 
“ Dear Mother.” Here he came suddenly to a stand. 
He was at a loss how to commence. He sat uneasily 
in his chair, now nibbling the end of the pen-holder, 
and now running his fingers slowly through his hair, 
as if to coax out the thoughts he wished to express. 

At length he got started, and wrote several lines 
without stopping. How he thought he should go 
ahead without further trouble ; but he soon found him- 
self again brought to a dead halt. He began to 
scribble and draw rude figures upon a piece of waste 
paper, hoping the next sentence, in continuance of his 
letter, would soon pop into his head ; but instead of 
anything popping in, his ideas began to pop out, so 
that he almost forgot the letter, amid the unmeaning 
flourishes his pen was making. Then, suddenly think- 
ing of the scarcely-commenced task before him, he read 
and re-read the few lines he had written, but could not 

determine what to say next. Lifting up the lid of the 
22 * 


258 


THE SWALLOWS. 


desk, lie found a variety of bills, receipts, accounts and 
letters scattered about. Disregarding the injunction of 
his uncle, and in violation of one of the plainest rules 
of good breeding, he concluded to open one of the let- 
ters, and see if he could not gain some hint from it, to 
aid him in completing his own. The letter he opened 
proved to be a short business message, and it was writ- 
ten in such a difficult hand, that he could not read half 
the words. He then looked into several other letters, 
but none of them afforded him any aid. 

After idling away half an hour in this manner, he 
resumed his letter, and began to make some progress 
upon it, when the lively chirping and twittering of 
a party of birds in an apple-tree near the window, 
attracted his attention. He laid down his pen, and 
watched their movements awhile. They were swal- 
lows ; and from their actions, Oscar soon discovered 
tnat the old birds were teaching their little ones how 
to fly. There were several nests of these swallows, 
under the rafters of Mr. Preston’s barn ; and as 
they had recently had accessions to their families, 
Oscar concluded this must be the first appearance 
of the new-comers in public. The old birds fluttered 


A LESSON UNHEEDED. 


259 


back and forth, twittering and talking to the young 
ones all the while, and trying to entice them to commit 
themselves again to their wings. The little fearful 
things looked doubtingly, first one way and then an- 
other, as though they would gladly launch away upon 
their destined element, if they were only sure they 
should not tumble ingloriously to the ground. The 
clamor of the old ones increased every moment. They 
called and coaxed more earnestly, and fluttered more 
impatiently, until at length the young birds worked up 
their courage to the requisite point, and away the whole 
flock darted, towards the barn. 

Now that the swallows were out of his way, Oscar 
returned to his letter once more. Had he learned a 
lesson of self-confidence from the example of the little 
swallows, the few minutes he spent in watching their 
movements would have been well employed. But in- 
stead of his confidence increasing, he was now almost 
sick of the sight of the letter, and began to doubt 
whether he should ever finish it. While he was hesita- 
ting whether he had better tear it up, or try once more 
to go on with it, a sweet childish voice from the garden 
engaged his attention. He looked from the window, 


260 mart’s picture book. 

and saw little Mary sitting down upon the grass, in a 
shady spot, with a large book open before her. She 
was looking at the engravings in the volume, and was 
talking very earnestly to herself, and to the figures in 
the pictures. 

“ There is Emily,” she was saying, “ and there is 
father with a shovel ; and this one is me, and that is 
Jerry, and that’s Oscar, carrying a basket. I guess 
they ’re going to dig potatoes. 0, what lots of houses 
over the other side of the pond ; and there ’s one, two, 
three, five, ten, eight meeting-houses, too. It must be 
Boston, I guess, there are so many houses there. And 
there’s a great boat coming — O what a smoke it 
makes ! — and it ’s got wheels, too. Now we ’ll get 
right into it, and go and see Uncle Henry and all the 
folks. Stop, stop, you boat ! Now that ’s too bad — it 
goes by, and we can’t go to Boston.” 

Thus little Mary continued to talk to the pictures and 
to herself, unconscious that any one was listening to 
her. She was a pretty child, and, all unknown to her- 
self, she made almost as attractive a picture as any 
in her book, with her fair face, her flowing hair, 
and her clean dress, set off by the green grass and 


TRYING IN EARNEST. 


261 


climbing* vines around her. Oscar sat listening to her 
childish prattle for some time, 
when the striking of the 
kitchen clock reminded him 
that he had been seated at 
the desk an hour, and had 
not yet written a dozen lines. 

He was about to tear up the 
sheet of paper over which 
he had sat (but not labored) so long, and give up the 
attempt. Then he thought of his promise to write, and 
how ashamed he should feel to have his uncle’s folks 
know that he had tried a whole hour, and could not 
write a letter to his own mother. He finally deter- 
mined to make one more attempt. 

. Finding that the sound of Mary’s voice disturbed 
him, Oscar now shut down the window, and thus cut 
off all communication with the outer world, except by 
the eye. He soon got under way again with his letter, 
and, to his own surprise, he went along quite easily 
and with considerable rapidity. The reason of this 
was, he was now really in earnest, and had given his 
mind wholly to the letter. Before, his thoughts were 



262 


THE LETTER. 


flitting from one trifle to another ; now they were di- 
rected to the object he wished to accomplish. Before 
the clock struck the next hour, the letter was finished, 
sealed, and directed. It was quite a respectable sort of a 
letter, too. When he had got through, Oscar was him- 
self surprised to find that he could write so good an 
epistle. The spelling, punctuation, and penmanship 
might have been improved, but in other respects the 
letter was creditable to him. I will print it as he in- 
tended it should read, and not precisely as he wrote it : 

“ Brookdale, June 15, 185-. 

“ Dear Mother : 

“ I suppose you are looking for a letter from 
me, and I meant to have written before this, but some- 
how I have neglected it. I got here safe the next day 
after I left home. We stopped one night in Portland, 

and put up at the Hotel. The next day we rode 

in the cars all the forenoon, and in the stage all the af- 
ternoon. The stage does not go within five miles of 
uncle’s, but Jerry went over with a horse and wagon to 
get us. I like Brookdale first-rate. It is a real coun- 
try fied place, but I like it all the better for that. The 
nearest house to uncle’s is half a mile off ; and, by the 
way, tell Ralph that a cousin of Whistler’s lives there. 
His name is Clinton Davenport. I have got acquaint- 
ed with him, and like him very much. I like Jerry, 


THE LETTER. 


263 


too. We have capital times together. All the boys 
here are rather ‘ green,’ as we say in Boston ; and you 
would laugh at the ideas they have of city things ; but 
I suppose they think I am green about country things, 
and so we .are square. I have lots of rides, and good 
long walks, too. A few days ago, Jerry and I walk- 
ed four or five miles through the woods and pastures, 
to an old hut where a hermit used to live. They say 
he was a miser, and buried his money there, and people 
have dug for it, but nobody has found it. We carried 
our provisions, and made a fire, and ate dinner there. 
There is a fine pond close by, where we got our water 
to drink. 

“ There are lots of birds here. We are going to set 
some snares in the woods, and catch some. There are 
some swallows’ nests in uncle’s barn, just over the door. 
You can look right up into them, and see the birds. 
They are quite tame. They are just making their 
young ones learn how to fly. It is real amusing to see 
them. 

“ Uncle has quite a large farm. I forget how many 
acres he told me there was, but it is a good many. 
They have cows, and pigs, and hens, and live in real 
country style. I have learned how to make butter, but 
I have not learned to like buttermilk yet. I can’t bear 
it, but all the other folks think it is a great treat. The 
schook don’t keep here but three months in the winter, 
so Jerry and I are together about all the time. We 
sleep together, too. I almost forgot to tell you that I 


264 


INQUISITIVENESS. 


have got quite strong and hearty again. My cough is 
gone, and aunt says I look a good deal better than 
I did when I came here. I want to hear from home, 
but I hope you won’t send for me to go back just yet. 
But I am tired of writing, and must close up my letter. 
Excuse errors and bad writing. Give my love to all the 
family, including Tiger. 

“ Your affectionate son, 

“ Oscar.” 

Oscar felt quite relieved when his letter was ready 
for the post-office. Having locked up the little room, 
he carried the key to his aunt. 

“ Have you written your letter ?” inquired Mrs. Pres- 
ton. 

“ Yes, ma’am,” replied Oscar. 

“ "Where is it ? You ’re going to let me read it, 
aint you ?” inquired Emily. 

“ There it is,” said Oscar, taking the letter from his 
jacket pocket ; “ but I guess you won’t read it, miss.” 

“ Yes, do let me read it,” persisted Emily, who really 
had an undue proportion of inquisitiveness in her nature. 

“ No, I can’t ; it ’s sealed up,” replied Oscar. 

“Then tell me what you wrote, won’t you ?” con- 
tinued Emily. 


BANTERING. 


265 


“ Why, you silly child, what business is it to you 
what he wrote ?” said her mother. “ Don’t ask any 
more such foolish questions ; Oscar will think you 
have n’t got common sense if you do.” 

“ Did you write anything about me ?” continued 
Emily, in a lower tone. 

“ Did you hear me, Emily ?” inquired Mrs. Preston, 
in a sharper tone. 

“ O no, I did n’t write much,” said Oscar, in reply to 
Emily ; “ there ’s nothing in the letter that you would 
care about seeing.” 

“ I did n’t know you were going to seal up the letter 
so soon. I wanted to send a message to Alice and 
Ella,” continued Emily. 

“You are too late now,” replied Oscar; “but I’ll 
give you a chance next time. What message do you 
want to send ?” 

“ You must n’t be so inquisitive,” said Emily, with a 
laugh ; “ just as though I were going to tell you, when 
you would n’t let me read the letter !” 

“ Well, I can tell you one thing, — I don’t want to 
know,” replied Oscar. “Aunt Eliza, do you know 
where Jerry is?” 


23 


266 


MULCHING. 


“ He has gone with his father down to the meadow 
lot,” replied Mrs. Preston. “ I guess they will be back 
before a great while.” 

Oscar set out for the “ meadow lot,” which was a 
quarter of a mile from the house, on the other side of 
the river. He had not gone far, however, when he 
met Mr. Preston and Jerry returning. 

“I’ve written my letter, uncle, and it’s all ready to 
go to the post-office,” said Oscar ; “ can’t Jerry and I 
carry it over ?” 

“ I ’ll see about that this afternoon,” said Mr. Pres- 
ton ; “ I ’ve got something else for Jerry to do now.” 

“ I ’m going over to the old wood-lot to get a load 
of mulching,” said Jerry to Oscar ; “ and you can go 
too, if you want to.” 

“ Mulching — what is that ?” inquired Oscar. 

“ It ’s stuff that they put around young trees, to keep 
the roots from drying up in summer,” replied Jerry. 
“ You know all those small apple and pear trees back 
of the barn ? well, it ’s to put around them.” 

Having reached the house, the boys ate some lunch- 
eon, and then proceeded to tackle Billy into the hay- 
cart. After Mr. Preston had given Jerry sundry cau- 


CUTTING BIRCH TWIGS. 


267 


tions and directions, which the latter seemed to think 
quite unnecessary, the boys hopped into the cart, 
and drove off towards the woods. Mr. Preston owned 
several tracts of woodland in Brookdale. The lot to 
which the boys were going, was called the “ old” one, 
because the wood had all been cut off once, and it was 
now covered with a young growth, not large enough 
for firewood. It was but a short distance from the 
house, and the boys soon reached the spot, and com- 
menced operations. They were each provided with 
large jack-knives, and with these they proceeded to 
lop off the young and tender ends of the birches, 
which trees were quite abundant in that spot ; foi 
birches are very apt to spring up after a pine forest 
has been cleared away. Many of the trees were yet 
so small, that the boys did not have to climb up to 
reach the branches. 

Though all this was really work, it seemed so much 
like play to Jerry and Oscar, that they actually forgot 
to be lazy. The consequence was, the job was done 
before they thought of it. Gathering up the heaps of 
small twigs scattered around them, they threw them 
into the cart, and found they had quite a respectable 


268 


THE RIDE. 


load ; respectable in bulk at least, though not a very 
heavy burden for Billy. Taking their seats upon the 
top of the mulching, which was almost as soft as a 
load of hay, they drove back to the barn, and alighted. 
Mr. Preston now appeared, and led the horse into the 
orchard, where, with the aid of the boys, he scattered 
the birch twigs around the young trees, so as to pro- 
tect their roots from the fierce heat of the sun. There 
was not enough for all the trees, but he told them they 
need not get any more at that time. 

After dinner, Mr. Preston said he should have to go 
over to the Cross-Roads himself, as he wanted to see a 
man who lived there ; but he told Oscar he might go 
with him, if he wished. Oscar accepted the invitation, 
and they were soon on their way, leaving Jerry not a 
little disappointed that he could not go with them. Oscar 
handed his letter to the postmaster, who marked it with 
the stamp of the office, and deposited it in the mail-bag. 

Mr. Preston stopped to purchase a few articles in the 
shop where the post-office was kept. When he was 
ready to start, he inquired : 

“ Have you mailed your letter, and paid your post- 
age, Oscar ?” 


PAYING POSTAGE. 


269 


“ I ’ve mailed it, but I did n’t pay the postage,” re- 
plied Oscar. 

“ That was n’t right,” said his uncle ; “ when you 
mail a letter to a friend, you should always pay the 
postage. If you pay it now, in advance, it will be only 
three cents ; but if the postage is not paid till the letter 
is delivered, it will be five cents.” 

“I did n’t think of that,” said Oscar ; “I wonder if 
it is too late to pay it now ? I ’ll go and see.” 

On making known his request, the postmaster drew 
forth the letter from the bag, and imprinted another 
stamp upon it. Oscar paid the three cents, and de- 
parted, with his uncle. 


23 * 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE RECALL. 

QSCAR was bent upon going a-gunning. He bad 
allowed bis mind to dwell upon tbe idea, until it 
seemed to bim as tbougb he could no longer resist 
the impulse to play tbe sportsman, without a sacrifice 
of bis happiness. His uncle, it is true, had tried to 
dissuade bim from it, and bad positively refused to lend 
bim bis gun. But there were other guns in Brookdale, 
and everybody was not so particular as Mr. Preston 
abcut trusting boys with fire-arms. Why could n’t be 
borrow a gun of somebody else ? So be asked, him- 
self; and by-and-bye be put tbe same question to 
Terry. Jerry heartily entered into tbe proposal. He 
thought Jim Oakley would lend bim a gun. At any 
rate, be was not afraid to ask bim. Jim was a famous 
gunner, in that region. He bad several fowling-pieces ; 


A DISPUTE. 


271 


and if he would not lend them his best rifle, it was not 
likely that he would refuse them one of his old guns. 
So Jerry reasoned, and Oscar fully agreed with him. 
They went to see Jim, that very afternoon, and by dint 
of teasing, they got the gun, together with a small 
quantity of powder and shot. Thus armed, they set 
out for the woods, in quest of game. 

They had been in the woods but a short time, and 
had not yet shot anything, though they had fired sev- 
eral charges, when a dispute arose between them about 
the gun. Jerry claimed a right to it half the time, on 
the ground that he had borrowed it. Oscar was will- 
ing that he should use the gun occasionally, but he re- 
sisted his claim to it half the time. He contended that 
the gun was loaned to him, and besides, he had agreed 
to pay the owner for all the ammunition they used. 
The dispute waxed warmer and warmer. Oscar was ob- 
stinate, and Jerry grew sulky. It was the first serious dif- 
ficulty that had arisen between them. Neither of them, 
as yet, knew the other’s temper, bat now they were in 
a fair way of finding each other out. It was the clash- 
ing of two strong wills. Oscar soon saw that their 
sport was at an end for that day, and throwing down 


272 


HARD WORDS. 


the gun and powder flask upon the grass, he said, in an 
angry tone : 

“ There, take the old thing, and do what you please 
w r ith it ; and when you carry it back, see that you pay 
for the powder, for I won’t.” 

So saying, he turned upon his heel and walked off. 
He had not gone far when Jerry, who had picked up 
the gun, called out : 

“ Here ! you ’ve broken the trigger, throwing it down 
so. You may carry it back yourself now, I won’t.” 

“ I shan’t carry it back,” replied Oscar ; “you say he 
lent it to you, and you may take care of it now.” 

Oscar went back to his uncle’s, leaving Jerry and the 
gun to keep each other company. Not feeling in a 
very pleasant mood, Oscar did not go into the house, 
but loitered around the barn, avoiding the family as 
much as he could. Pretty soon he saw Clinton driving 
up, and he stepped inside of the barn, as he did not 
care about speaking with him. Clinton stopped 
however, when opposite to the barn, and called to 
him. 

“ What would you give for a letter from home ?” said 
Clinton, when Oscar made his appearance. 


A LETTER FROM HOME. 


273 


“ I don’t know — why, have you got one for me 1” 
inquired Oscar, with remarkable coolness. 

“ That ’s for you, I guess,” said Clinton, handing him 
a letter. “ I ’ve been over to the post-office, and as I 
happened to see a letter directed to you, I thought I 
would take it along with me.” 

“ That ’s right, I ’m glad you did,” said Oscar, taking 
the letter. “ Much obliged to you for your trouble,” he 
added, as Clinton drove off. 

Oscar now went into the barn, and, seating himself 
upon a stool, opened and read his letter. It was from 
his mother. She acknowledged the receipt of his letter, 
and expressed much gratification at hearing that he 
was well and enjoying himself. His father, she wrote, 
thought he had better return home, and resume his 
place at school, from which he had been absent nearly 
three months. The term would close in about a month, 
and he wanted Oscar to be prepared to enter the High 
School at that time. Then followed various little mes- 
sages from the children, directions about his journey 
home, &c. In closing, she requested him to return 
that week, that he might be ready to go to school the 
following Monday. 


274 


THE QUARREL. 


Oscar was not very much pleased with the contents 
of the letter. He did not expect to be recalled so sud- 
denly. He had hoped that, at any rate, he should not 
be sent to school again that term. But his plans and 
hopes were all overturned by this letter. He went into 
the house, and told the news to his aunt, who expressed 
regret that he was to leave so soon. 

By*and-bye Jerry came home, but he brought the 
same scowl upon his face that Oscar left with him up 
in the woods. Oscar, too, was as “ stuffy” as ever. Ho 
words passed between the two, and each seemed bent 
upon giving the other a wide berth. At the supper 
table, something was said about Oscar’s letter, and his 
going home ; but Jerry was too obstinate to ask any 
questions, and so he remained in tormenting uncertainty 
in regard to the matter. Oscar, too, had some curiosity 
about the gun, but he did not intend to “ speak first,” 
if he never spoke again to his cousin. 

During the whole evening, Oscar and Jerry were at 
the opposite poles of the little family circle. When 
Oscar retired for the night, he found Jerry not only 
abed, but asleep, or pretending to be. It was a wonder 
that both did not tumble out of bed that night ; for 


SOBER FACES. 


275 


each slept upon the extreme edge of the mattress, as 
far as possible from the other. 

When Oscar awoke in the morning, he found him- 
self alone, Jerry having quietly arisen and slipped out 
of the room, without disturbing him. They did not 
see each other until they met at the breakfast table. 
Here, their sober and quiet demeanor, so unusual with 
them, soon attracted notice. 

“ See how down in the mouth Jerry is !” said Emily. 
“ He looks as though he had lost all his friends. And 
Oscar does n’t look much better either, poor fellow !” 

Both boys changed color, and looked queerly, bu; 
they said nothing. 

“ Never mind, boys,” said Mrs. Preston, “ you ’ve got 
one day more to enjoy yourselves together. You ’d 
better make the most of that, while it lasts, and not 
worry about the separation till the time comes.” 

“ That ’s good doctrine,” said Mr. Preston ; “ never 
borrow trouble, for it comes fast enough any way. 
Come, cheer up, Oscar, you have n’t gone yet.” 

“ It ’s too bad to make me go home so soon —I 
thought I was going to stay here a month or two,” 
said Oscar, who was very willing that his unusual 


270 


AN EXPL OSI 0 N. 


demeanor should be attributed entirely to bis summons 
borne. 

“ You must ask your father to let you come down 
and spend your vacation,” said Mr. Preston. “ I ex- 
pect to go up to Boston about that time, and I guess 
be will let me bring you home with me.” 

“ I should like to come,” said Oscar, “ but I don’t be- 
lieve father will let me, it ’s so far.” 

“ 0 yes, be will, when be knows what good friends 
you and Jerry are,” replied Mr. Preston. 

“ Jerry ’s crying, as true as I ’m alive !” exclaimed 
Emily, who bad been watching the workings of her 
brother’s face for several moments, and thought she 
saw moisture gathering in bis eye. 

“ No I aint, either !” replied Jerry, in such a prompt 
and spiteful tone, and with such a scowl upon bis face, 
that all the others, including even Oscar, joined in a 
hearty laugh. 

“ I hope you feel good-natured,” said bis mother ; 
“ Oscar’s going off seems to have bad a queer effect 
upon you.” 

“ I don’t care, you ’re all picking upon me — it ’s 
enough to make anybody cross,” said J erry, in a surly tone. 


ITS EFFECTS. 


277 


“ You ’re mistaken — nobody has picked upon you,” 
replied bis mother. 

“ Yes, you have, too,” responded Jerry 

“Jerry! don’t let me hear any more of that — not 
another word,” said Mr. Preston, sternly. 

“ Then you ’d better make Emily hold her tongue,” 
said Jerry. 

“ Hush ! do you hear me ?” said Mr. Preston, with 
considerable excitement. 

Jerry undertook to mutter something more, when his 
father jumped up, and, taking him by the collar, led 
him to the cellar-door, and told him to go down and 
stay until he was sent for. Then, shutting the door, 
and turning the button, he resumed his seat at the 
table, and the family finished their meal in silence. 

Jerry was released from his confinement soon after 
breakfast; but the unfortunate affair at the table con- 
tinued to weigh heavily upon his mind. Throughout 
the rest of the day; he kept out of everybody’s way, 
and said nothing, but looked sour, cross, and wretched. 
Oscar, too, felt very unpleasantly. He found it hard 
work to amuse himself alone. He was a boy of strong 

social feelings, and abhorred solitary rambles and sports. 

24 


278 


MAKING UP. 


It was a long and dull day, and when he retired to bed 
at night, he almost felt glad that it was his last day in 
Brookdale. 

Soon after he had got into bed, Jerry, who had re- 
tired before him, called out : 

“ Oscar !” 

“ What ?” inquired the other. 

There was a long pause, during which Jerry hitched 
and twisted about, as if hesitating how to proceed. He 
at length inquired : 

“ Are you mad with me ?” 

“No,” replied Oscar, somewhat reluctantly, and in a 
tone that was almost equivalent to “ yes.” 

“ I don’t want you to go off without making up with 
me,” added Jerry; and as he spoke, his voice trembled, 
and had it been light enough, Oscar might have de- 
tected something like moisture in those very eyes that 
had flashed in anger at Emily in the morning, for re- 
porting the same thing of them. 

“ I ’m ready to make up with you,” replied Oscar, 
turning over toward Jerry. 

Having thus broken the ice, the constraint and re- 
serve that had existed between them since the previous 


STARTING FOR HOME. 


279 


day, gradually melted away, and they were once more 
on sociable terms, although their intercourse was not 
quite so free and unembarrassed as it was before their 
quarrel. In fact, they did not properly heal up the 
difficulty between them, inasmuch as neither made an} 
confession or apology — a duty that both should hav 
performed, as they were about equally guilty. Oscar’s 
first inquiries were concerning the gun. Jerry told him 
that he carried it home, and that the owner was quite 
angry, when he saw the damage it had sustained, but 
said nothing about making the boys pay for it. 

The next morning the family arose at an earlier hour 
than usual, as Oscar had got to be on his way soon 
after sunrise. It was decided that Jerry should drive 
him over to the Cross-Roads. Accordingly, after a 
hasty breakfast, he bade them all good-bye, one by 
one, and taking a seat in the wagon with Jerry, start- 
ed for home. It was delightful, riding while the birds 
were yet singing their morning songs, and the grass 
was spangled with dew, and the cool air had not fel 
the hot breath of the sun ; but the separation that was 
about to take place, and the unpleasant recollection of 
their recent quarrel, lessened their enjoyment of the 


280 


THE COACH. 



ride very much. They reached the Cross-Roads nearly 
half an hour before the stage-coach came along. At 
length it drove up to the post-office, and Oscar, mount- 
ing to the top, took a seat behind the driver. The 
mail-bag was handed to the driver, and the coach 
started again on its way, Oscar bowing his farewell to 
Jerry, as they drove off. 

Nothing of special in- 
terest occurred during 
the forenoon’s ride. The 
coach reached its destina- 
tion about eleven o’clock, 
and Oscar had barely 
time enough to brush 
the dust 
from his 
clothing, 
and to 
obtain a 
drink of 
cold wa- 
ter, when the signal was given for the cars to start, 
and he took his seat in the train. His thoughtful aunt 


A LONG RIDE. 


281 


had placed a liberal supply of eatables in the top of 
his valise, and to that he now had recourse, for his long 
ride had given him a sharp appetite. There were but 
few passengers in the train when it started, but at al- 
most every station it received accessions. 

On reaching Portland, Oscar found that he had 
nearly half an hour to spare, before taking the Boston 
train ; for it was his intention to “ go through” in one 
day, which his early start enabled him to do. After 
treating himself to a few cakes, which he purchased at 
a refreshment stand in the depot, he walked about until 
it was time to take his seat in the cars. 

The clock struck three, and the train started. One 
hundred and eleven miles seemed to Oscar a long dis- 
tance to travel, at one stretch, especially after riding 
all the forenoon ; and, indeed, he did begin to feel quite 
tired, long before he reached the «end of the journey. 
To add to his uneasiness, a particle of cinder from the 
locomotive flew into his eye, and lodged there so firmly 
that all his efforts to remove it were in vain. In a little 
while, the eye became quite painful, and he was 
obliged to keep it closed. A kind-looking gentleman, 

who sat near him, noticed his trouble, and offered to 

24 * 


282 


HOME AGAIN. 


assist him in removing the mote ; but it was so small 
that he could not find it. He advised Oscar not to rub 
the inflamed organ, and told him he thought the mois- 
ture of the eye would soon wash out the intruder, if 
left to itself. Oscar tried to follow this advice, but the 
pain and irritation did not subside, and he closed his 
eyes, and resigned himself to darkness. 

The nine o’clock bells of Boston were ringing, as Os- 
car left the depot and turned his steps homeward. 
He hurried along through the familiar streets, and had 
just turned the corner from which his home was in 
sight, when somebody jumped suddenly from a dark 
passage-way, and seized him by the hand. It was 
Ralph, who had been on the watch for his brother half 
an hour, and concealed himself just as he saw him ap- 
proaching. Each gave the other a cordial greeting, 
and then they hastened into the house, where Oscar 
found the rest of the family waiting to receive him. 
The general commotion that followed his arrival, arous- 
ed Tiger from the comfortable nap he was taking on a 
mat, and on hearing the well-remembered tones of his 
master’s voice, he sprang toward Oscar, and nearly 
knocked him over with his demonstrations of welcome. 


THE EYE-STONE. 


283 


So Oscar was at home again ; and from the welcome 
he received, he learned that there is pleasure in getting 
back from a journey as well as in setting out upon one. 
His inflamed eye soon attracted the notice of his 
mother, and she examined it to see if she could detect 
the cause of the irritation ; but the troublesome atom 
was invisible. She then said she would try the eye- 
stone, and, going to the drawer, she got a small, 
smooth, and flat stone, and told Ella to go down into 
the kitchen and bring up a little vinegar in a saucer. 
On putting the stone into the vinegar, it soon began to 
move about, as though it were possessed of life. When 
it had become sufficiently lively, Mrs. Preston wiped it 
dry, and put it between the lid and ball of Oscar’s in- 
flamed eye. After it had remained there a few min- 
utes, he allowed it to drop into his hand, and on a 
close examination, he found that it had brought with it 
the offending substance that had caused him so much 
pain. It was a little black speck, so small that it was 
barely perceptible to the unaided eye. It now being 
quite late, Mrs. Preston thought that further inquiries and 
answers concerning Oscar’s visit had better be deferred 
till morning, and the family soon retired to their beds. 


CHAPTER XX. 


DOWNWARD PROGRESS. 

rjlHE next day was Saturday. Oscar was off most of 
the day with his comrades, among whom he was 
quite a lion for the time. During one of the brief in- 
tervals that he was in the house, his mother said some 
thing about his going to school on Monday. 

“0 dear, I don’t want to go to school again this 
term,” said Oscar. “ What ’s the use ? Why, it ’s 
only four or five weeks before the term will be through.’ 

“ I know that,” replied his mother, “ but your father is 
very anxious that you should get into the High School, 
and he thinks you can do it if you finish up this 
term.” 

“I can’t do it — I’ve got all behindhand with my 
studies,” said Oscar. 

“0 yes, you can if you try,” replied his mother. 
“ You might have got into the High School last year 


GOING TO SCHOOL. 


285 


if you had studied a little harder. You were almost 
qualified then, and I ’m sure you ought to be now. If 
you find you are behind your class in your lessons, you 
must study so much the harder, and you ’ll get up with 
them by-and-bye.” 

“ But I don’t believe it will do me any good to be 
confined in the school-room,” continued Oscar. " I 
don’t think I ’m so strong as I was before I was sick.” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Preston, “when you’re sick you 
need not go to school ; but I guess there ’s no danger 
of your staying at home for that reason, at present. 
You never looked better in your life than you do now.” 

Oscar tried his pleas again in the evening with his 
father, but with quite as poor success. He saw that it 
was fully determined that he should resume his seat at 
school, and he reluctantly submitted to this decision. 
When Monday morning came, he proceeded to school, 
but found that his old desk was in possession of another 
boy. The head teacher in Oscar’s department soon ap- 
peared, and seemed quite glad to see him once more. 
He appointed Oscar a new seat, and told him he hoped 
he would study so diligently as to make up for lost time. 

The hopes of Oscar’s teacher and parents were 


286 


A TALENT FOR MISSING. 


doomed to disappointment. It was soon evident that 
he cared less about his lessons than ever. He was be- 
hind his class, and instead of redoubling his efforts to 
get up with them, he became discouraged and indiffer- 
ent! His recitations were seldom perfect, and often 
they were utter failures. His teachers coaxed, and en- 
couraged, and ridiculed, and frowned, and punished, 
all in vain. One day, after Oscar had blundered worse 
than usual, the teacher who was hearing the recitation 
said to him, in a despairing tone : 

“ You remind me, Oscar, of what one of the old Ro* 
man emperors said to an archer who shot his arrows a 
whole day, and never once hit the mark. He told him 
he had a most wonderful talent for missing. So I must 
say of you — you ’ve got the greatest talent for missing 
of any boy I know.” 

Seeing a smile on the faces of Oscar’s classmates, he 
added : 

“ But this is too sober a matter to make light of. 
If you could hot get your lessons, it would be a differ- 
ent matter ; but I know, and you know, that this is 
not the trouble. You are quick enough to learn and 
to understand, when you have a mind to be. If you 


SOMEBODY.’ S CAP. 


287 


would only try to get your lessons as hard as the othei 
boys do, you would n’t be at the foot of the class a 
great while. If you keep on in this way, you will see 
your folly as plainly as I see it now, before you are 
many years older.” 

This admonition had little effect upon Oscar. When 
school was dismissed, a few minutes after, he rushed out 
with as light a step as any of his comrades, and his 
gay laugh was heard as soon as he reached the entry. 
In the general scramble for caps, one had fallen from 
its peg, and instead of replacing it, two or three of the 
boys were making a football of it. Oscar joined the 
sport, and gave the cap a kick that sent it part of the 
way down stairs. A moment after, he met Willie 
Davenport returning with it. 

“ Halloo, Whistler, that is n’t your cap, is it ?” inquired 
Oscar. 

“ Ho, but it ’s somebody's ,” said the good-hearted boy, 
as he brushed off the dust, and put the lining back into 
its place. He was about hanging it up, when Benny 
Wright appeared, and claimed it as his property. 

Had Oscar known that the cap was Benny’s, he 
would not have made a foot-ball of it. He remem- 


288 


BAD BEHAVIOR. 


bered the kind epistle lie received, when sick, and 
the amusement it afforded him, -when amusements 
were scarce. Since his recovery, he had treated Benny 
with much more consideration than before, and quite a 
kindly feeling had sprung up between them. 

Oscar *s inattention to his studies was not his only 
fault at school. His general behavior was worse than 
it had ever been before. Vexed that he was compelled 
to return to’ school so near the expiration of the term, 
it seemed as though he was determined to make as 
little improvement in his studies, and as much trouble 
for his teachers, as he could. He not only idled away 
his own time, but he disturbed other boys who were 
disposed to study. He was repeatedly reproved and 
punished, but reproof and punishment did no good ; 
on the contrary, the} seemed rather to make him 
worse. The teachers at length gave him up as incor- 
rigible, and consoled themselves with the thought that 
his connection with the school would cease in two or 
three weeks, at which time his class would graduate. 
They still aimed to keep him in check, during school 
hours, but they ceased spending their time and breath 
in trying to bring about a reformation in his conduct. 


THE TOBACCO SPITTLE. 


289 


One day as the scholars were engaged in writing, 
the master, while passing along among the boys, and 
inspecting their writing-books, noticed that somebody 
had been spitting what appeared to be tobacco juice, 
near Oscar ’s seat. This was a violation of the rules 
of the school, and the teacher concluded not to let it 
pass unnoticed. Having no doubt, from several cir- 
cumstances, that Oscar was the offender, he said to 
him : 

“ Oscar, what are you chewing tobacco in school 
for, and spitting the juice on the floor ?” 

“I haven’t chewed any tobacco this afternoon,” re- 
plied Oscar. 

“ What is it, then, that you have been spitting upon 
the floor ?” inquired the teacher. 

“I have n’t spit upon the floor,” replied Oscar. 

“ Who did that ?” continued the teacher, pointing to 
the puddle upon the floor. 

“ I don’t know,” said Oscar ; “ it was there when I 
took my seat.” 

It was possible that Oscar told the truth, but the 
teacher had his doubts. He might, perhaps, have set- 
tled the matter at once by putting a question to one or 
25 


290 


A SEARCH. 


two of the boys who sat near the supposed offender ; 
but as he always avoided the system of making one 
boy inform against another, when he could properly do 
so, he took another course. He told Oscar, if he had 
any tobacco in his mouth, or anywhere about his per- 
son, to give it up to him. Oscar declared that he had 
none. 

“ Let me look into your mouth,” said the teacher. 

Oscar had a small piece of the weed in his mouth, 
which he tucked behind his upper lip with his tongue, 
and then opened his mouth. The teacher of course saw 
nothing but what belonged there. He smelt some- 
thing, however, that left him no longer in doubt that 
Oscar had told a falsehood. 

“I can’t see your cud, but I can smell it plain 
enough,” said the master ; “ and I ’ll examine your 
pockets, if you please.” 

Oscar was far from pleased with this proposition, 
and tried to prevent its being carried into effect. The 
master, however, easily overcame the difficulties he put 
in the way, and running his hand into the pocket which 
he seemed most anxious to defend, brought forth a 
piece of tobacco large enough to kill a horse! 


THE NEW COPY. 


291 


“ What is that ?” he inquired, holding the contraband 
article before Oscar. 

Oscar neither looked at it nor made any reply. 

“ And you are the boy who said a moment ago that 
you had no tobacco about you,” continued the master 
w I declare I don’t know what to do with you. I hav 
said and done all that I can to make a better boy of you, 
and now I shall report this matter to your father, and 
let him settle it with you. But I want you to remem- 
ber one thing. When you tell me a lie, you break 
God’s law, and not mine ; and you can’t settle the mat- 
ter in full with me, or any other human being.” 

The teacher then threw the piece of tobacco out of 
the open window, and taking Oscar’s writing-book, told 
him he would set a new copy for him. He soon re- 
turned, with the following line written upon the top of 
a clean page : 

“ Lying lips are abomination to the Lord.” 

As Oscar wrote this fearful sentence over and over 
again, he could not fully escape the force of its mean- 
ing. It reminded him of his feelings during his recent 
illness, when at times the terrible thought that his sick- 
ness might possibly be unto death intruded upor his 


292 


THE COMPLAINT. 


mind. But thoughts of God, and death, and i future 
world, were alike unpleasant to him, and he banished 
them as speedily as possible. 

During the afternoon, the principal of the school 
wrote a letter to Mr. Preston, informing him of Oscar’s 
ndolence and bad conduct, and referring particularly to 
the incident that had just occurred. By way of offset 
to the complaint, he spoke in very high terms of Ralph, 
who attended the same school, but was in another de* 
partment and another room. He sent the letter by 
Ralph, but told him not to let Oscar know anything 
about it. Ralph had some suspicions of the nature of 
the letter, but he did his errand faithfully, going direct- 
ly from school to his father’s store. 

Mr. Preston was at first very much irritated by the 
teacher’s complaints of Oscar’s misconduct ; and could 
he have taken the culprit in hand at the time, he would 
probably have handled him rather roughly. But sev- 
eral days elapsed before he found it convenient to talk 
with Oscar about the matter, and by this time his pas- 
sion had subsided into anxiety and sorrow. He showed 
Oscar the letter, in which he, the eldest son, was severe 
!y censured, and his little brother was so highly com 


PARENTAL ANXIETY. 


293 


mended. With tears in his eyes, he warned him of the 
dangers before him, and entreated him to change his 
course. 

Oscar had never seen his father exhibit so much 
emotion before. Usually, on such occasions, he was 
stern, if not passionate ; more ready to threaten and 
punish than to appeal to the heart and conscience. 
Now, all this was changed, and sorrow seemed to have 
taken the place of anger. Oscar was somewhat affect- 
ed by this unusual manifestation of parental anxiety. 
He was pretty well hardened against scoldings and 
threatenings, but he did not know how to meet this 
new form of rebuke. He tried to conceal his feelings, 
however, and preserved a sullen silence throughout tho 
interview. 

This affair made no abiding impression upon Oscar. 
In a day or two it was forgotten, and the slight com- 
punctions he felt had entirely disappeared. But the 
schoolmaster’s complaint was soon followed by another 
that was quite as unpleasant. As Mrs. Preston was sit- 
ting at her sewing, one day, the door suddenly opened, 
and in came Bridget, the servant girl, with a face as red 

as rage and a hot fire could make it. 

25 * 


294 


Bridget’s complaint. 


“ I ’ll be goin’ off this night, ma’am — I ’ll pack me 
chist, and not stop here any longer at all,” said Bridget, 
in a tone that betokened her anger. 

“ Going off — what do you mean ? You don’t say 
you ’re going to leave us so suddenly, Biddy ?” inquired 
Mrs. Preston, with surprise. 

“ Yes, that I be,” replied Bridget, very decidedly ; 
“ I ’ll not be after staying in the same house with that 
big, ugly b’y, another day.” 

“ Who, Oscar ? What has he done now ?” inquired 
Mrs. Preston. 

“He’s did nothing but bother the life out o’ me 
ivery day since he coom back, that ’s jist all he ’s did,” 
replied Biddy. “ Jist now, ma’am, he slopped over a 
hull basin o’ dirty whater right on to the clane floor, 
and thin laffed at me, and sassed me, and called me all 
sorts o’ bad names — the little sass-box ! It ’s not the 
like o’ Bridget Mullikin that ’ll put up with his dirty 
impidence another day. I ’d like to live with ye, 
ma’am, and Mister Pristen, good, nice man that he is 
but I can’t stop to be trated like a dog by that sassy b’y.” 

“ I ’ll go and see what he has been about,” said Mrs. 
Preston, laying down her work. 


oscar’s story. 


295 


When they reached the kitchen, Oscar was not to he 
found. There was the puddle- of dirty water upon the 
floor, however, and so far Bridget’s story was corrobo- 
rated. As she proceeded to wipe it up, she continued 
o speak in not very complimentary terms of the “ ugly 
o’y,” as she delighted to call Oscar. It was in vain 
that Mrs. Preston attempted to soothe her ruffled 
spirits. She refused to be comforted, and insisted upon 
taking her departure from the house that night. 

Oscar did not make his appearance again until late 
in the afternoon. When his mother called him to ac- 
count for his treatment of Bridget, he denied the great- 
er part of her story. He said that the basin of water 
was standing upon the floor, and that he accidentally 
hit it with his foot, and upset it. He denied that he 
called her bad names or was impudent, but he admitted 
that he laughed, to see her so angry. He also com- 
plained that she was as “ cross as Bedlam” to him, and 
“jawed” him whenever he entered the kitchen. 

Mrs. Preston, puzzled by these contradictory stories, 
Drought the two contending parties face to face, in hope 
of either eliciting the truth or effecting a treaty of 
peace between them. She failed in both objects, how- 


296 


FACTS IN THE CASE. 


ever. Bridget not only adhered to her first statement, 
but boldly accused Oscar of sundry other misdeeds that 
had come up in recollection since the first outbreak ; 
while Oscar, on the other hand, stoutly denied most of 
her charges, and insisted that she was ill-natured, and 
irritated him in every possible way. The contest finally 
waxed so warm between them that Mrs. Preston was 
obliged to interpose, and to withdraw with Oscar. 

Mrs. Preston never ascertained the real facts in the 
case. Candor compels me to say that Bridget’s com- 
plaints were essentially true. Knowing the poor Irish 
girl’s weak side (her quick temper), Oscar had for some 
time taxed his ingenuity to torment her, for the sake of 
hearing her “ sputter,” as he termed it. He was not 
only impudent, and applied offensive names to her, but 
sometimes he purposely put her to extra labor and 
trouble by misplacing articles, making dirt about the 
house, &c. These things were a sad annoyance to 
Bridget, and she soon came to regard Oscar as “ the 
plague of her life,” and treated him accordingly. He 
did very wrong to annoy her in this way ; and she was 
foolish to take so much notice of his hectoring. The 
ill-will thus established between them grew day by day, 


THE EXAMINATION. 


297 


until it resulted in the open rupture just described. 
But Mrs. Preston did not give full credit to Bridget’s 
story. She believed the difficulty was owing quite as 
much to Biddy’s irritable temper and ignorance as to 
Oscar’s impudence, and consequently the latter escaped 
with a slight reprimand. She also prevailed upon 
Bridget to remain with them the week out, thinking she 
would by that time get over her anger. But, to the 
surprise of all, when Saturday night came, Biidget took 
her departure. She had got another “place,” where 
she would be out of the reach of the provoking Oscar. 

The week for the annual examination of the public 
schools soon arrived. Oscar begged hard, but in vain, 
for permission to absent himself, on the eventful day 
that the grave committee and other distinguished visit- 
ors were to sit in judgment upon the condition of the 
school to which he belonged. But though he was 
present, he did not appear to much advantage among 
the “ bright particular stars” of the day ; and as one 
and another of the flower of his class were called out, 
to receive the “ Franklin medals,” his name was not 
heard, and no silken ribbon, with silver medal attached, 
was hung around his neck. 


298 


THE CERTIFICATE. 


The samo day, in obedience to the orders of his 
father, but very much against his own inclination, Os- 
car applied to the head master for tbe certificate re- 
quired of boys who present themselves for admission to 
the High School. The teacher seemed a little puzzled 
what reply to make. At length he said : 

“ Do you know what kind of a certificate is required ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Oscar, who had read the adver- 
tisement in the paper that morning. 

“ The certificate must say that you are a boy of good 
character, and that your teacher believes you are quali- 
fied for admission to the High School,” continued the 
master. “ Now I want to ask you if you think I can 
honestly say that of you !” 

Oscar hung his head in shame, but made no reply 
It had turned out just as he feared it would. 

“ It is very hard to refuse such a request,” continued 
the teacher ; “ but, really, if I should give you the cer- 
tificate, I am afraid it would do you no good, while i 
might do me some harm, for I don’t like to have my 
scholars rejected. I cannot honestly say that I think 
you are qualified for the High School; and besides* 
your conduct has been such of late, that I do not see 


MORTIFICATION. 


299 


how I could give you a very high recommendation. I 
would advise you to give up the idea of applying for 
admission. I am very sorry it is so, but that will not 
help the matter.” 

What could Oscar say to this? He said nothing, hut 
his looks betrayed the deep mortification he felt, and 
moved his teacher to pity, while he denied his request. 
Hor was this the end of Oscar ’s troubles. He had got 
to face his father, and to confess to him that he was found 
unworthy even to be a candidate for the school for 
which he had so long been preparing. In doing this, 
he smoothed over the matter as well as he could ; but 
at best it was a bitter thing to him, and . thus he began 
to experience some of the sad but natural effects of his 
own misconduct. 


CHAPTER XXL 


NED MIXER. 

rpHE long summer vacation had now commenced. 

Oscar wished to spend it at Brookdale, but his 
parents did not seem much inclined to } 7 ield to his 
wishes. They had not yet fully determined what to do 
with him ; whether to send him to a private school, 
when the vacations were over, or to put him to work in 
some shop or store. Meanwhile, Oscar was idling away 
his time about the streets, and devoting all his energies 
to the pursuit of amusement. His favorite place of re- 
sort continued to be the hotel where Alfred Walton 
lived. Here he found congenial spirits in Alfred, and 
Andy the speller, and the several drivers and hostlers, 
with whom he was on intimate terms. Here, too, he 
often met with strangers who took his fancy. 

At this time, a boy named Edward Mixer was board- 
ing at the hotel. He had lately come to Boston from 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 


301 


another city, and Oscar and Alfred were soon captivated 
by his free and easy manners, and his sociable qualities. 
He was between fifteen and sixteen years old, and rep- 
resented that he was travelling about, to see the world. 
He said he had plenty of money, and should have a 
great deal more, when he became of age. He wa? 
fashionably dressed, and Oscar and Alfred felt proud 
of his acquaintance, and were soon on terms of inti- 
macy with him. 

It was not long before Oscar discovered that Edward 
was a very bad boy. His conversation was low and 
profane, and he seemed to take special delight in relat- 
ing sundry “ scrapes,” in which he himself figured in a 
character that was something worse than mischievous, 
and bordered on the criminal. He “ talked large,” too, 
amazingly large ; and Oscar and Alfred were at length 
forced to the reluctant conclusion that he was an un- 
mitigated liar. But these were small faults, in their 
view. They considered Ned a capital fellow, and a 
right down good companion, in spite of these little 
drawbacks, and they sought his company as much as 
ever. 

Ned spent a good deal of his time around the several 

26 


302 


AN EXCURSION. 


railroad depots. He seemed to have quite a mania for 
such places. Oscar and Alfred often accompanied him 
to these favorite old haunts of theirs. One morning, 
as the three were loitering around a depot, having no- 
thing in particular to amuse themselves with, an excur- 
sion on foot into a neighboring town was proposed, 
and all readily agreed to the suggestion. They imme- 
diately set out, accompanied by Oscar’s dog, Tiger. 
They walked along the railroad track, and crossed the 
river by the railroad bridge, thus saving their tolls, be- 
sides many extra steps. They passed several small 
sign-boards, on which was painted the warning, “ No 
Person alloived to cross this Bridge but this did not 
check their progress, and as no one interfered with 
them, they were soon safely over the river. They still 
followed the track for some distance, until they had 
reached the open country, and then they turned oft' into 
the green fields. 

There were many fine orchards and gardens on every 
side, but ripe fruits and berries were very scarce. 
Strawberries and cherries had pretty much disappeared, 
and it was not yet time for plums, peaches, and early 
apples and pears. Ned appeared to regret this very much. 


ROBBING ORCHARDS. 


303 


“ J ust see there !” he exclaimed, as they approached 
a large garden, remote from any house, whose trees 
were loaded with green fruit. “ What fine picking we 
should have, if it were only a few weeks later ! I mean 
to come out here again next month, you see if I don’t. 
We must mark this place; let me see; there’s an old 
rough board fence — I shall remember that, I guess. 
Didn’t you ever rob an orchard, Alf? I’ve robbed 
more than you could shake a stick at. I ’m a first-rate 
hand at it, I can tell you — never got caught in my life ; 
but I ’ve come pretty near it, though, a good many 
times. Hold on — I ’m going to get over the fence, and 
see what they ’ve got. Those plums over there look as 
if they were pretty near ripe. Come, Alf and Oscar, 
won’t you get over i” 

“You two may,” said Oscar, “but I ’ll stay here with 
Tiger. He might bark if we all got over, where he 
could n’t see us.” 

Edward and Alfred were soon upon the other side of 
the fence. While they were exploring the garden, Os- 
car’s attention was attracted to a dense thicket, from 
which two or three birds suddenly flew on his ap- 
proach. He thought there might be a nest there, and 


304 


THE BIRD’S NEST. 



concluded to see if he could find it. Carefully brush- 
ing aside the leaves and twigs, he began to hunt for the 
suspected nest, while Tiger stood looking on. Absorb- 
ed in this occupation, he lost sight of his comrades. 

After searching for several minutes, Oscar found a 
small nest, within his reach, but it was empty. He 
turned to inform the other boys of his success, but 
they were nowhere to be seen. He walked along by 
the fence, but could see nothing of them. He wa 
afraid to call to them, lest the owner of the garden 
might hear, and take the alarm. He listened, but 
could not hear them. He walked along still further, 


THE PURSUIT. 


305 


and kept his eyes wide open, but they were not to be 
seen. He concluded they were playing a trick upon 
him, and had hid themselves. If that was the game, 
he thought, he would not worry himself about it. He 
ccordingly turned about, and was going to sit down 
and wait for them to make their appearance, when he 
happened to espy them in a distant field, running at 
the top of their speed, with a man in full chase after 
them. It was soon evident that the boys were gaining 
on their pursuer ; but they were approaching a brook, 
over which there was no bridge, and the man probably 
supposed that would bring them to a stand. It did not, 
however, for they ran right through the shallow water, 
without stopping to think about it. The man did not 
think it prudent to follow their example, and he ac- 
cordingly gave up the chase, and went back with dry 
feet. 

After Edward and Alfred had got rid of their pur 
suer, they began to look around for Oscar. The latter, 
utting his fingers into his mouth, gave a loud and 
shrill whistle, which they immediately recognized, and 
answered in a similar way. Oscar started towards 

them, and taking a wide sweep through the fields, they 

26 * 


306 


A SPECULATION. 


all came out together upon the highway. They did 
not think it safe to remain long in the neighborhood, 
and so they hurried on towards Boston. It appeared, 
from Edward ’s story, that he and Alfred knocked a 
few hard peaches from a tree, while in the garden, but 
they proved unfit to eat. They also found some ripe 
currants, and were leisurely helping themselves, when 
they heard somebody ask them what they were about. 
They turned, and saw a man approaching ; whereupon, 
without stopping to answer his question, they leaped 
over the fence, and took to their heels, the man follow- 
ing closely upon them. The conclusion of the race 
Oscar had witnessed. 

As they were walking home, and talking about va- 
rious matters, Edward suddenly gave the conversation 
a new turn, by inquiring : 

“ Boys, do you want to go into a grand speculation 
with me ?” 

“Yes, what is it?” was the response of both the 
others. 

“We should make something handsome out of it, 
but we should have to run some risk,” continued Ed- 
ward. “I’ve got the scheme all laid out, so that 1 


KEEPING IT SECRET. 


307 


know just how to go to work. But it ’s no use talking 
about it. I don’t believe either of you have got pluck 
enough to go into it.” 

w I ’ve got pluck — the real, genuine article ; try me, 
and see if I have n’t,” said Alfred. 

“ So have I,” said Oscar ; “ I should like to have 
you show me a boy that ’s got more pluck than I 
have, when I get stirred up.” 

“ Pooh, you don’t know what pluck is, neither of 
you,” replied Edward. “ What would you do if a 
policeman should nab you ?” 

“I should run, just as you did, when the man caught 
you stealing fruit,” said Oscar, with a laugh. “ That ’s 
a specimen of your pluck, aint it?” 

“ But what is the speculation you were telling 
about ?” inquired Alfred. 

“I guess I shan’t tell you about it now,” replied Ed- 
ward. “ I ’m afraid you would n’t keep it to yourselves.” 

“ Yes we will. I will at any rate,” said Alfred. 

“ So will I,” added Oscar. 

“If I let you into the secret, and you should blab it 
out, I would n’t mind killing both of you,” said Edward, 
with forced gravity, which he could not long maintain, 


308 


Oscar’s uncle. 


it gradually relaxing into a smile. “ I mean what 1 
say,” he added, “you needn’t laugh at it.” 

Both the others renewed their promise to keep the 
matter a secret; hut Edward, after talking about his 
scheme a quarter of an hour longer, and exciting the 
curiosity of the others to the highest point, finally in- 
formed them that he could not let them into the secret 
then, but that he would tell them all about it in a few 
days, if he was sure that they would keep it to them- 
selves. 

Oscar saw Edward almost every day, and often in- 
quired about his speculation, but got no definite answer. 
He and Alfred both felt very curious to know what it 
was ; but though expectation was on tiptoe, it was not 
gratified. Edward assured them, however, that things 
were nearly ready, and that in a few days he would let 
them into the mysterious scheme. 

Oscar’s uncle, from Brookdale, was now in the city, 
and was stopping for a few days at Mr. Preston’s. 
He no sooner arrived, than Oscar applied to his parents 
for permission to return with him to Maine ; but they 
did not give much encouragement to his proposal, al- 
though his uncle said he should like to have him make 


THE POLICEMAN. 


309 


his family another visit. Oscar, however, daily renewed 
his request, for he believed that he should yet accom- 
plish his object by teasing. 

The day before Oscar’s uncle was to return to his 
home, a gentleman called into Mr. Preston’s store, and 
told him he wished to see him alone. Having with- 
drawn to a private room, the stranger introduced him- 
self as an officer of the police. 

“ You have a son fourteen or fifteen years old ?” in- 
quired the officer. 

“Yes, I have,” replied Mr. Preston. 

“Are you aware that he is getting into bad com- 
pany ?” continued the officer. 

“No, sir,” said Mr. Preston. 

“ Well,” resumed the other, “ I ’ve called to acquaint 
you of a few facts that have come to my knowledge, 
and you can act in the matter as you think best. 

There is a young fellow stopping at the Hotel, 

who came to this city a few weeks ago, and who calls 
himself Edward Mixer. He is a little larger than your 
son, and is well dressed, and looks like a respectable 
boy ; but for a week or two past we have suspected 
that he was a rogue. He hangs around the railroad 


310 


DISCLOSURES. 


depots, and as several persons have had their pockets 
picked, when getting out of the cars, since he made his 
appearance, we began to watch him. We have got no 
evidence against him yet ; but yesterday I pointed him 
out to a New York policeman, who happened to be 
here, and he says he knows him well. It seems he is 
a regular pickpocket by profession, and has served a 
term at Blackwell’s Island.* He was liberated last 
month, and came on here to follow the business where 
he isn’t known. But we keep a sharp eye on him, 
and as we have noticed that your son is quite intimate 
with him, I thought it my duty to inform you of it. I 
don’t suppose your boy knows the real character of this 
fellow, or has anything to do with his roguery ; but 
it is n’t safe for him to be in such company, and I 
thought you ought to know what is going on.” 

Mr. Preston thanked the officer very cordially for the 
information, and promised to see that Oscar was imme- 
diately put out of the way of danger from this source. 
When he went home at noon, he had a long private 
interview with his son, and informed him of the disclos- 
ures the officer had made. Oscar was not a little 
* The New York Penitentiary. 


REPROOFS. 


311 


astonished to learn that the genteel and sociable Ned 
Mixer, whose company he prized so highly, was a thief 
by trade, and was fresh from a prison. He assured his 
father that he knew nothing of all this. This was true; 
but after all Oscar knew too much of the character of 
Ned to believe him to be a good boy, or a safe com- 
panion. He had heard him swear and lie. He had 
also heard him sneer at virtue, and boast of deeds that 
no well-ordered conscience would approve. And yet he 
courted his company, and considered him a “ capital 
fellow” ! 0, foolish boy ! 

But Oscar’s plea of ignorance did not fully excuse 
him, even in the eye of his father, who did not know 
how little force that plea really had. 

“ I don’t suppose you knew his character,” said Mr. 
Preston ; “ but are there not good boys enough in the 
neighborhood for you to associate with — boys that have 
always lived here and are well known — without your 
cultivating the acquaintance of every straggler and 
vagabond that comes along? I wish you wmuld not 
make yourself so intimate with Tom, Dick, and Harry, 
before you know anything about them. I ’ve cautioned 
you against this a good many times, and now I hope 


312 


oscar’s departure. 


that you ’ll see there is some cause for it. If this inti- 
macy had gone on a few weeks longer, it might have 
ruined you and disgraced your mother and me.” 

After consultation with his wife and brother, Mr. 
Preston concluded to let Oscar go down to Brookdale, 
and remain until they could make some permanent ar- 
rangements for him elsewhere. He did not think it 
safe for him to remain longer exposed to the tempta- 
tions of the city. He charged Oscar not to speak again 
to Ned, and not to inform any one of the facts he had 
learned about him, lest it might thwart the efforts of 
the police to detect his rogueries. On second thought, 
he concluded to take Oscar to the store with him that 
afternoon, to prevent the possibility of an interview be- 
tween him and Ned. Oscar thus remained under the 
eye of his father through the day. In the evening he 
packed his valise for the journey, and the next morning 
he started for Brookdale with his uncle. 

A day or two after Oscar ’s departure, Ned was ar- 
rested in the act of picking a lady’s pocket at a rail- 
road depot. Being unable to obtain bail, he was com- 
mitted for trial. When his case came up in court, he 
was brought in guilty ; and it appearing, from the tes- 


CONCLUSION. 


313 


timony of the officers, that, though young, he was 
quite old in crime, he was sentenced to one year in 
the House of Correction. 

Oscar never ascertained the nature of Ned ’s “ grand 
speculation,” and probably it was well for him that he 
did not. Had he been let into the secret, and had the 
scheme been carried into effect at the time it was first 
talked of, I might have been obliged to add another 
and a still sadder chapter to tKs history of “ the boy 
WHO HAD HIS OWN WAY.” 

27 


THE ENH„ 



Hei'j info f aplar Smea for Ifojrs rnilx iirls. 


THE AIM WELL STORIES; 

A SERIES OP VOLUMES, ILLUSTRATIVE OP YOUTHFUL CHARACTER, 
AND COMBINING INSTRUCTION WITH AMUSEMENT. 

BY WALTER AIMWELL, 

Author of 44 The Boy’s Own Guide,” 44 Boy’s Book of Morals and Manners,” &c. 

WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. 


$ 


The volumes contain about 300 pages, lGmo, each, bound in cloth, with gilt backs. 
Price 63 cents. 

S^rEach volume is complete and independent of itself, but the series will be con- 
nected together by a partial identity of characters, localities, &c. 

The first five volumes of this series are now ready. They are entitled: 


OSCAR ; or, tlie Boy who had his own Way. 
CLINTON ; or, Boy-Life in the Country. 
ELLA; or, Turning over a New Leaf 


WHISTLER ; or, the Manly Boy. 

MARCUS ; or, the Boy-Tamer. (Now Ready.) 
JESSIE; or, Trying to be Somebody. (Shortly) 


NOTICES OP THE PRESS. 

In the department of juvenile literature, the 4 Aimwell Stories’ have fairly come 
to rival the * Rolla Books ’ in the affections of the young people. The author when 
he conceived the plan of the series, struck a vein which he has since been work- 
ing with rich and constantly increasing success.— [Boston Transcript. 

One of the best series for the young ever written. Every family of children 
ought to have them. — [Chicago Congregational Herald. 

They are written with great skill for the tastes and necessities of children, and 
they are “written conscientiously, with a moral and Christian effort unobtrusively 
operative upon every page. — [Congregationalist. 

A better series of books for children were never written. The author has studied 
deeply and accurately the feelings, hopes, and thoughts of youth. — [Boston Mail. 

The author of the 4 Aimwell Stories ’ has a happy knack at combining amuse- 
ment and instruction. Under the guise of a story, he not only teaches a moral les- 
son, which is or ought to be a leading object of every tale for children, but he gives 
his readers instruction in philosophy, geography, and various other sciences. So 
happily are these introduced, however, that the youthful reader must learn in spite 
of himself.— [Boston Journal. 

It is the best series of juvenile books with which we are acquainted.— [North- 
ampton Gazette. 

We have spoken repeatedly, and with unqualified commendation, of this series of 
juvenile volumes. It -would be difficult to exaggerate their merits as a source of 
amucemcnt and instruction to children. — [American Patriot. 

(a a) 


\ 


0 


%\t Stories. 

In uniform style, with numerous Illustrations. Cloth, 63 Cents. 


I. 

OSCAR; OR, THE BOY WHO HAD HIS OWN WAY. 

So graphic and natural are the incidents of this story, that it must have been 
compiled from a real boy-experience. — [N. Y. Home Journal. 

It is a very fine work. The author writes like one who understands the springs 
of youthful action. — [Chicago Cong. Herald. 

This is one of the best books for boys we have ever read. — [Boston Transcript. 

Few r juvenile books are better designed and executed than this. — [Christian 
Freeman. 

It is one of the Aimweil Series, and is from the same pen with 4 Clinton,’ a book 
for boys which has had few equals of its kind in any age. — [Norton’s Lit. Gaz. 


CLINTON ; OR, BOY-LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. 

Well, the boys have read it. and pronounce it * first-rate.’ We confirm theirjudg- 
ment. It enters into the heart of the boy ; comprehends his thoughts, his -wishes 
and his temptations ; mingles in his sports ; stimulates him in his studies, and im- 
plants right princip'es, ana noble views. It is a safe book, an entertaining book andr 
a useful book. — [The Independent, N. Y. 

We attempted to read this book, but the boys got hold of it, and morning, noon, 
and night, they kept hold of it, until one, and another, and another still, had read it 
through. If their judgment is worth anything, the book is capital,— one of tka 
very best of its kind. — [N. Y. Evangelist. 

‘ A prime book,’ as -we heard a little boy say, who had just got through with it. 
— [Youth’s Companion, Boston. 


III. 

ELLA; OR, TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. 

It would be difficult to find a child who would * skip over ’ tiny portion cf this 
volume. — [Boston Journal. 

Neatly printed, beautifully illustrated, and most interestingly told. Such volumes 
are a public treasure. — [Boston Post. 

A capital little work, written with a good purpose, and well calculated to enforce 
the moral lessons of the author. — [Ballou’s Pictorial. 

One of the best written, most Cnstvuctive and entertaining little stories that ha* 
fallen in our way for some time. — [Boston Traveller. 


IV. 

WHISTLER; OR, THE MANLY BOY. 

It is the best juvenile book we have ever read. — [Lynn Reporter. 

It is a book that w r e car, co*diuUy recommend to a place in every boy’s library. — 
[Boston Journal. 

We wish every boy .could have this volume. It would be of service in making a 
man of him. — [Hinghum Journal. ^ 

Described at equal to its predecessors : or, in boy language, as ‘ first rate, I tell 
youJ ’ or ‘Good, you’d better believe ! * Books like these are worth 4 double the money 
one pays lor them.— [Worcester Palladium. 


V. 

MARCUS; OR, THE BOY-TAMER. (Just Published.) 

vi. 

JESSIE; OR, TRYING TO BE SOMEBODY. (Ijt Preparation.) 

(bb) 


NATIONAL SERIES OE AMERICAN HISTORIES. 

By Rev* Joseph Banvard. 


PLYMOUTH AND THE PILGRIMS j or, Incidents of 

Adventures in the History of the First Settlers. With Illustrations. 
16mo, cloth, GO cts. 

When once taken up it will not be laid down without regret until finished. — Courier \ 
An exceeding^ interesting volume. — Am. Traveller . 

Popular reading, particularly adapted to entertain and instruct youth. — Mercantile 
Journal. 

Every New Englander, wherever he resides, should own this book. — Scientific Am . 

An extremely interesting volume, written in a plain but vigorous style, adapted to 
the young, but will be read with interest by the older ones. — Ch. Freeman. 

Highly attractive in style and instructive in matter. — JV. Y. Com. Adv. 

NOVELTIES OF THE NEW WORLD ; an Account of 

the Adventures and Discoveries of the First Explorers of North America. 
With numerous Illustrations. I61110, cloth, 60. cts. 

A series of books which will serve as valuable introductions and enticements to 
more extended historical reading. — Am. Traveller. 

It has all the interest of a romance. — Portland Transcript. 

We have seen the boys bend over these pages, unwilling to leave them, either for 
play or sleep ; and when finished, inquiring anxiously ivhen the next would come. — 
Watchman and Reflector. 

Neither too childish for adults, nor yet too difficult of comprehension for children. 
They will delight as well as instruct. — Mercantile Journal. 

Interesting scenes and events in the New World are here brought together and in- 
vested with a charm that is irresistible by old as well as young. — Ch. Intelligencer . 

ROMANCE OF AMERICAN HISTORY; or, an Account 

of the Settlement of North Carolina and Virginia, embracing the tragic 
Incidents connected with the Spanish Settlements, French Colonies, Eng- 
lish Plantation at Jamestown, Captivity of Captain Smith, the Adveiv 
tures of Pocahontas, etc. With Illustrations. GO cents. 

All the interest of romance, and the addition of veritable history. — Puritan Rec. 
It is a most pleasing and instructive book. — Home Journal. 

Interesting as a novel, and a.thousand times more profitable reading. — Lit. Mes. 
Every rorary should be furnished with this Series of American Histories. — N. E. 
Farmer. 

Admirably fitted for family reading, and calculated to interest the young. — Trav. 

Attractive series of books founded on the early history of our country ; it will make 
a most valuable addition to all family libraries. — Arthur's Gazette. 

No more interesting and instructive reading can be put into the hands of youth. — 
Portland Transcript. 

The series will embrace the most interesting and important events which have oc- 
curred in the United States since the settlement of the country. Each volume to be 
complete in itself; and yet, when all are published, they will together form a regular 
Series of American Histories. Y 


PLEASANT PAGES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE; 

OR, BOOK OF HOME EDUCATION AND ENTERTAINMENT. 

By S. Prout Newcojibe. With numerous Illustrations. 75c. 

03 - This work is designed for the pleasure and profit of young people ; and, as the 
title indicates, intended as an aid to Home Education. The great variety of subjects 
presented, consisting of Moral Lessons, Natural History, History, Travels, Physical 
Geography, Object Lessons, Drawing and Perspective, Music, Poetry, etc., and withal, 
so skilfully treated as to make truth simple and attractive, renders it an admirable 
family book for winter evenings and summer days. 

A very excellent book. History, philosophy, science, stories, and descriptions of 
games are all mingled together, and he who does not like the compound must be hard 
to please. —Post. 

Pleasant pages, containing information on a great variety of subjects. Here we 
have science and art made plain and captivating. The lessons in drawing and per- 
spective alone are worth the price of the volume. And then a thousand questions 
which the intelligent young mind raises are here answered. — Parlor Magazine. 

This is indeed a home book of endless amusement. — Boston Atlas . 

An admirable book of home education. We commend it to families. — Alb . Spec. 

A work admirably adapted to the instruction and amusement of the young. — Peg. 

A pleasant book, full of all sorts of information upon all sorts of subjects.— Jour. 

One of the most delightful works for young people we have ever met with. Few 
persons, young or old, could examine its pages without gaining knowledge of a useful 
kind. It is one of the most successful combinations of the pleasant with the useful 
to be found. — Daily Advertiser. 

A book of not only “ pleasant pages,” but of singularly instructive pages. Even 
people not so very young might be profited by its perusal. — South Boston Gazette. 

It presents much solid information, and opens before the young new fields of ob* 
servation. The youngsters will clap their hands with joy. — Scientific American. 

There is a great deal of valuable information communicated in a very simple and 
easy way. While it is full of useful instruction to children, it is also suggestive to 
those who are called to conduct their education. — Puritan Recorder. 

We like this book : it is well fitted for the family library. The young like facts ; 
when these are set forth in a pleasant way, the interest is greater than fiction ever 
awakens, unless the fiction is made to appear like truth. — Godey's Ladies' Book. 

THE GUIDING STAR ; or, The Bible GocVs Message. By 

Louisa Payson Hopkins. With Frontispiece. 16mo, cloth, 50 cts. 

An excellent work to put into the hands of youth. It is written in conversational 
style, and opens up most beautifully, and with great simplicity, the great lading ev- 
tidences that the Bible contains God’s message to man. Those seeking after truth will 
■find it worthy of frequent perusal. — Dr. Sprague, in Albany Spectator. 

« We cordially commend the work to parents, children, and Sabbath schools. — Cong. 

This volume should be in the hands of every youthful reader, and adult persons 
would find it not only interesting, but instructive. — Ch. Cliron. 

The popular author of this book has conferred a favor on the public, for which she 
deserves something more than thanks.— Ch. Secretary. 

One of the most valuable books for youth that we have seen. — Cong . Journal. 

A book of more than common excellence. How often have we wished that all the 
youth of our land might become familiar with its contents- — Ch. Mirror. X 


VALUABLE WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 


YOUNG AMERICANS ABROAD ; or, Vacation in Europe ; 

the Results of a Tour through Great Britain, France, Holland, Belgium, 
Germany, and Switzerland. By John Overton Choules, D. D., and 
his Pupils. With Elegant Illustrations. 16mo, cloth, 75 cts. 

A highly entertaining work, embracing more real information, such as every one 
wishes to know about Europe, than any other book of travels ever published. 

Three intelligent lads, who knew how to use their eyes, accompanied their tutor 
on a European tour ; and, from a carefully-kept journal, they wrote out, in a series of 
letters to a favorite companion in study, at home, their impressions of the most re- 
markable places en route. The pencillings are genuine and unaffected, and in all 
^respects form an interesting and instructive record of travel. — Sar tain's Magazine. 

One of the most instructive and delightful books of the age. — Southern Lit. Gaz. 
Boys, here is a book that will suit you exactly. It is a series of letters from certain 
boys travelling in Europe to their classmates m this country. It will improve your 
knowledge and amuse you during long winter Gifhtsi — Methodist Prot. 

It is worth much more than many a larger and more pretentious volume* for giving 
a daguerreotype of things abroad. — Congfiyationihlist. 

A beautiful book for young people, unlike any tiling wC have eves seen. — Ch. Ob • 
Most interesting book that can be put irto the hands of tta young> — Olive Branch* 
The best book of foreign travel for youth to be fount! im the whole, raoge of Amel** 
can literature. — Buffalo Morning Express. 

THE ISLAND HOME ; or, the Young Castaways. By 

Christopher Romaunt, Esq. With Elegant Hus, rations. 75 cts. 

The best and prettiest book for boys that we have lately seen- — Boston Post* 

A stirring and unique work. It will interest the Juvenile men vasv'y. — Olive Br. 
Delightful narrative of the adventures of six boys win put to sea FI an open boat, 
and were drifted to a desert island, where they lived in the manner of Robinson Cru- 
soe.— JV. Y. Com. 

A book of great interest, and one which will be a treat to any hoy. — Circle. 

The young will pore over its pages with almost enchanted interest. — TrcnZcript. 

A modern Robinson Crusoe story, without the dreary solitude of that famous hero 
It will amuse and instruct the young in no ordinary degree. — Southern Lit. Gazette 

A story that bids fair to rival the far-famed Robinson Crusoe. V/e become as t'luch 
interested in the Max, Johnny, Arthur, and the rest of the goodly company, as iH the 
Swiss Family Robinson. — Sartain's Magazine. 

*THE AMERICAN STATESMAN ; or. Illustrations of fho 

Life and Character of Daniel Webster, for the Entertainment and 
Instruction of American Youth. By the Rev. Joseph Ban v ard, au- 
thor of u Plymouth and the Pilgrims, 55 t( Novelties of the New World, 55 
i6 Romance of American History, 55 etc. With elegant Illustrations. 75c. 

0^* A work of great interest, presenting a sketch of the most striking and impor- 
tant events which occurred in the history of the distinguished statesman, Daniel 
Webster, avoiding entirely all points of a political character ; holding up to view, for 
the admiration and emulation of American youth, only his commendable traits of 
Character. It is just such a work as every American patriot would wish his children 
to read and reflect upon. W 


VALUABLE WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 

BY REV. HARVEY NEWCOMB. 


HOW TO BE A MAN ; a Book for Boys, containing Useful 

Hints on the Formation of Character. Cloth, gilt, 50 cts. 

44 My design in writing has been to contribute something towards forming the char- 
acter of those who are to be our future electors, legislators, governors, judges, minis- 
ters, lawyers, and physicians, — after the best model. It is intended for boys — or, if 
you please, for young gentlemen, in early youth.” — Preface . 

44 How to be a Man ” is an inimitable little volume. We desire that it be widely cir- 
culated. It should be put into the hands of every youth in the land. — Term. Pap. 

HOW TO BE A LADY ; a Book for Girls, containing Useful 

Hints on the Formation of Character. Cloth, gilt, 50 cts. 

44 Having daughters of his own, and having been many years employed in writing 
for the young, he hopes to offer some good advice, in an entertaining way, for girls or 
misses, between the ages of eight and fifteen. His object is, to assist them in forming 
their characters upon the best model; that they may become well-bred, intelligent, re- 
fined, and good ; and then they will be real ladies , in the highest sense.” — Preface . 

Parents will consult the interests of their daughters, for time and eternity, in mak- 
ing them acquainted with this attractive and most useful volume. — X. Y. Evangelist . 

The following Notices apply to both the above Volumes. 

* 

It would he better for the next generation if every youth would “read, learn, and 
inwardly digest ” the contents of these volumes. — X. Y. Commercial . 

These volumes contain much matter which is truly valuable. — Mer. Journal. 

They contain wise and important counsels and cautions, adapted to the young, and 
made entertaining by the interesting style and illustrations of the author. They are 
fine mirrors, in which are reflected the prominent lineaments of the Christian young 
gentleman and young lady. Elegant presents for the young. — American Pulpit. 

Newcomb’s books are excellent. We are pleased to commend them. — X. Y. Obs. 

They are books well calculated to do good. — Phil. Ch. Chronicle. 

Common-sense, practical hints on the formation of character and habits, and are 
adapted to the improvement of youth. — Mothers' Journal. 

ANECDOTES EOR BOYS ; Entertaining Anecdotes and 

Narratives, illustrative of Principles and Character. I81110, gilt, 42 cts. 

ANECDOTES EOR GIRLS ; Entertaining Anecdotes and 

Narratives, illustrative of Principles and Character. 18ino, gilt, 42 cts. 

Interesting and instructive, without being fictitious. The anecdotes are many, 
short, and spirited, with a moral drawn from each, adapted to every age, condition, 
and duty of life. We commend them to families and schools. — Albany Spectator. 

Works of great value, for a truth or principle is sooner instilled into the youthful 
heart by an anecdote, than in any other way. They are well selected. — Ev'g Gaz. 

Nothing has a greater interest for a youthful mind than a well-told story, and no 
medium of conveying moral instructions so attractive or so successful. The influ- 
ence is far more powerful when the child is assured that they are true. We cannot 
too strongly recommend them to parents. — JFcsteni Continent, Baltimore. V 


VALUABLE WORKS. 


KNOWLEDGE IS POWER: a View of the Productive 
Forces of Modern Society, and the Results of Labor, Capital, and 
Skill. By Charles Knight. American edition, with Additions, by 
David A. Wells, Editor “Annual of Scientific Discovery,” etc 
With numerous Illustrations. 12mo, cloth. $1.25. 

This work is eminently entitled to be ranked in that class styled “ books for the 
people.” The author is one of the most popular writers of the day. His style is 
easy and racy, sufficiently polished for the most refined, while it is peculiarly fitted 
to captivate plain, unlettered, but thinking men. It is remarkable for its fullness 
and variety of information, and for the felicity and force with which the author ap- 
plies his facts to his reasoning. The facts and illustrations are drawn from almost 
every branch of skilful industry. It is a work, in short, which the mechanic and 
artisan of every description will be sure to read with a relish. 

MY SCHOOLS AND SCHOOLMASTERS ; or, The Story 
of my Education. By Hugh Miller, Author of “ Footprints of 
the Creator,” etc. 12mo, cloth. $1.25. 

“ This autobiography is quite worthy of the renowned author. His first attempts 
at literature, and his career until he stood forth an ackowledged power among the 
philosophers and ecclesiatical leaders of his native land, are given without egotism, 
with a power and vivacity which are truthful and delightsome.” — Presbyterian, 
“ Hugh Miller is one of the most remarkable men of the age. Having risen from the 
humble walks of life, and from the employment of a stone-cutter, to the highest rank 
among scientific men, everything relating to his history possesses an interest which 
belongs to that of few living men. The book has all the ease and graphic power 
which is characteristic of his writings.” — New York Observer. 

44 This volume is a book for the ten thousand. It is embellished with an admirable 
likeness of Hugh Miller, the stone mason — his coat off and his sleeves rolled up — 
with the implements of labor in hand — his form erect, and his eye bright and pierc- 
ing. The biography of such a man will interest every reader. It is a living thing — 
teaching a lesson of self-culture of immense value.”— Piiila. Christian Obs. 

“ It is a portion of autobiography exquisitely told. He is a living proof that a single 
man may contain within himself something more than all the books in the world. 
This is one of the best books we have read.” — London Corresp. N. Y. Tribune. 

44 It is a work of rare interest ; at times having the facination of a romance, and 
again suggesting the profoundest views of education and of science. The ex-mason 
holds a graphic pen; a quiet humor runs through his pages.” — N. Y. Independent. 

“ This autobiography is the book for poor boys, and others who are struggling with 
poverty and limited advantages ; and perhaps it is not too much to predict that in a 
few years it will become one of the poor man’s classics.” — New Eng. Farmer. 

THE IIALLIG ; or, The Sheepfold in the Waters. A 
Tale of Humble Life on the Coast of Schleswig. Translated from the 
German of Biernatzski, by Mrs. George P. Marsh. With a Biog< 
raphical Sketch of the Author. 12mo, cloth. $1.00. 

The author of this work was the grand-son of an exiled Polish nobleman, Ilisown 
portrait is understood to be drawn in one of the characters of the Tale, and indeed 
the whole work has a substantial foundation in fact. As a revelation of an entire new 
phase of human society, it will strongly remind the reader of Miss Bremer’s tales. 
In originality and brilliancy of imagination, it is not inferior to those; — its aim is far 
higher. The elegance of Mrs. Marsh’s translation will at once arrest the attention 
of every competent judge. (<l) 


VALUABLE WORK 


CYCLOPAEDIA OF ANECDOTES OF LITERATURE 

AND THE FINE ARTS. Containing a copious and choice selection of 
Anecdotes of the various forms of Literature, of the Arts, of Architecture, 
Engravings, Music, Poetry, Painting, and Sculpture, and of the most cel- 
ebrated Literary Characters and Artists of different Countries and Ages, 
&c. By Kazlitt Arvine, A. M., Author of “ Cyclopedia of Moral and 
Religious Anecdotes.” With illustrations. 725 pages octavo, cloth, 3,00. 

This is unquestionably the choicest collection of anecdotes ever published. It con- 
tains three thousand and forty Anecdotes , and such is the wonderful variety, that it 
will be found an almost inexhaustible fund of interest for every class of readers; 
and to public speakers, to all classes of literary and scientific men , to artists , mechan- 
ics, and others , a perfect Dictionary, for reference. There are also more than one 
hundred and fifty fine Illustrations. 

We know of no work which comprises so much valuable information in a form so 
entertaining. — N. T. Chronicle. 

Here is a perfect repository of the most choice and approved specimens of this spe- 
cies of information. The work is replete with such entertainment as is adapted to all 
grades of readers, the most or least intellectual. — Methodist Quarterly Magazine . 

One of the most complete things of the kind ever given to the public. There is 
scarcely a paragraph in the "whole book which will not interest some one deeply ; for, 
while men of letters, argument, and art cannot afford to do without its immense fund 
of sound maxims, pungent wit, apt illustrations, and brilliant examples, the mer- 
chant, mechanic and laborer will find it one of the choicest companions of the hours 
of relaxation. “ Whatever be the mood of one’s mind, and however limited the time 
for reading, in the almost endless variety and great brevity of the articles he can find 
something to suit his feelings, which he can begin and end at once. It may also be 
made the very life of the social circle, containing pleasant reading for all ages, at all 
times and seasons. — Buffalo Com . Advertiser. 

A well spring of entertainment, to be drawn from at any moment. — Bangor Whig. 

A magnificent collection of anecdotes touching literature and the fine arts. — Al- 
bany Spectator. 

The most comprehensive collection of anecdotes ever published. — Salem Gazette. 
A publication of which there is little danger of speaking in too flattering terms ; a 
perfect Thesaurus of rare and curious information, carefully selected and method- 
ically arranged. A jewel of a book to lie on one’s table, to snatch up in those brief 
moments of leisure that could not be very profitably turned to account by recourse 
to any connected work in any department of literature. — Troy Budget. 

No family ought to be without it. for it is at once cheap, valuable, and very inter- 
esting; containing matter compiled from all kinds of books, from all quarters of the 
globe, from all ages of the world, and in relation to every corporeal matter at all wor- 
thy of being remarked or remembered. — New Jersey Union . 

A rich treasury of thought, and wit, and learning, illustrating the characteristics and 
peculiarities of many of the most distinguished names in history. — Phil . Chris. Ohs. 

The range of topics is very wide, relating to nature, religion, science, and art; fur- 
nishing apposite illustrations for the preacher, the orator, the Sabbath school teacher, 
and the instructors of our common schools, academies, and colleges. It is a valuable 
work for the fireside, calculated to please and edify all classes. — Zanesville Ch. Reg. 

This is one of the most entertaining works for desultory reading we have seen. We 
hardly know of any thing at once so instructive and amusing. — N. Y. Ch. Intel. 

G 


CHAMBERS’S WORKS 


CHAMBERS’S HOME BOOK AND POCKET MISCEL- 

LANY. Containing a Choice Selection of Interesting and Instructive 
Reading for the Old and the Young. Six vols. 16mo, cloth, 3,00. 

This work is considered fully equal, if not superior, to either of the Chambers’g 
other works in interest, and, like them, contains a vast fund of valuable information. 
Following somewhat the plan of the “Miscellany,” it is admirably adapted to the 
school or the family library, furnishing ample variety for every class of readers, both 
>ld and young. 

We do not know how it is possible to publish so much good reading matter at such 
alow price. We speak a good word for the literary excellence of the stories in this 
work; we hope our people will introduce it into all their families, in order to drive 
awa y the miserable flashy-trashy stuff so often found in the hands of our young 
people of both sexes. — Scientific American . 

Both an entertaining and instructive work, as it is a very cheap one. —Puritan Pec. 
It cannot but have an extensive circulation. — Albany Express . 

Of all the series of cheap books, this promises to be the best. — Bangor Mercury . 

If any person wishes to read for amusement or profit, to kill time or improve it, get 
* Chambers’s Home Book.” — Chicago Times . 

The Chambers are confessedly the best caterers for popular and useful reading in 
the world. — Willis's Home Journal . 

A very entertaining, instructive, and popular work. — IV. Y. Commercial . 

The articles are of that attractive sort which suits us in moods of indolence when 
we would linger half way between wakef ulness and sleep. They require just thought 
and activity enough to keep our feet from the land of Nod, without forcing us to run, 
walk, or even stand. — Eclectic , Portland . 

It is just the thing to amuse a leisure hour, and at the same time combines instruc- 
tion with amusement. — Dover Inquirer . 

Messrs. Chambers, of Edinburgh, have become famous wherever the English lan- 
guage is spoken and read, for their interesting and instructive publications. They 
combine instruction with amusement , and throughout they breathe a spirit of the 
purest morality. — Chicago Tribune . 

CHAMBERS’S REPOSITORY OF INSTRUCTIVE AND 

AMUSING PAPERS. With Illustrations. An entirely New Series, 
containing Original Articles, p. 260, lGino, cloth, per vol. 50 cents. 

The Messrs. Chambers have recently commenced the publication of this work, un- 
der the title of “Chambers’s Repository of Instructive and Amusing 
Tracts,” similar in style, etc., to the “ Miscellany,” which has maintained an enor- 
mous circulation of more than eighty thousand copies in England , and has already 
reached nearly the same in this country. Arrangements have been made by the 
American publishers, to issue the work simultaneously with the English edition, a 
volume every two months, to continue until the whole series is completed. Each 
volume complete in itself and will be sold in sets or single volumes. 

ear Commendatory Letters, Reviews, Notices, &c., of each of Chambers’s works, 
sufficient to make a good sized duodecimo volume, have been received by the pub- 
lishers, but room here will only allow giving a specimen of the vast multitude at 
hand. They <ire all popular, and contain valuable instructive and entertaining read- 
ing-such as should be found in every family, school, and college library. 


F 


WORKS JUST ISSUED. 


VISITS TO EUROPEAN CELEBRITIES. By William B. 
Sprague, D. D. 12mo, cloth. SI .00. 

It consists of a series of Personal Sketches, drato from life, of many of the 
most distinguished men and women of Europe, with whom the author became ac- 
quainted in the course of several European tours. They are portrayed as the author 
saw them in their own homes, and under the most advantageous circumstances. 
Accompanying the sketches arc the Autographs of each of the personages de- 
scribed. This unique feature of the work adds in no small degree to its attractions. 
For the social circle, for the traveller by railroad and steamboat, for all who desire to 
be refreshed and not wearied by reading, the book will prove to be a most agreeable 
companion. The public press, of all shades of opinion, north and south, have given 
it a most flattering reception, 

THE STORY OF THE CAMPAIGN. A Complete Narra- 
tive of the War in Southern Russia. Written in a Tent in the Crimea. 
By Major E. Bruce Hamlet, author of Lady Lee ? s Widowhood.” 
With a new Map, expressly for the work. 12mo. Thick. Printed 
paper covers. 37i cents. 

Contents. — The Rendezvous ; The Movement to the Crimea ; First Operations 
in the Crimea ; Battle of the Alma ; The Battle-field ; The Katcha and the Balbek ; 
The Flank March ; Occupation of Balaklava ; The Position before Sebastapol ; 
Commencement of the Siege ; Attack on Balaklava ; First Action of Inkerman ; 
Battle of Inkerman ; Winter on the Plains ; Circumspective ; The Hospitals on the 
Bosphorus ; Exculpatory; Progress of the Siege ; Burial Truce ; View of the Works. 

It is the only connected and continuous narrative of the War in Europe that has 
yet appeared. The author is an officer of rank in the British army, and has borne an 
active part in the campaign ; he has also won a brilliant reputation as an author. By 
his profession of arms, by his actual participation in the conflict, and by his literary 
abilities, he is qualified in a rare degree for the task he has undertaken. The expec- 
tations thus raised will not be disappointed. 

TRAGIC SCENES IN THE HISTORY OF MARYLAND 
AND THE OLD FRENCH WAR. With an account of various 
interesting contemporaneous events whiclj occurred in the early set- 
tlement of America. By Joseph Banvard. A. M. With numerous 
elegant Illustrations. 12mo, cloth. 60 cents. 

“ The volume is one of a series by the same author, and all those who have pur- 
chased its predecessors will be sure to buy the present work.” — Hartford Press 

“We commend the work to our readers as a capital one for the instruction as well 
as the amusement of youth.” — Boston Atlas. 


C3T* G. & L. would call attention to their extensive list of publications, embracing 
valuable works in Theology, Science, Literature and Art ; Text Books 
for Schools and Colleges, and Miscellaneous, etc., in large variety, the 
productions of some of the ablest writers and most scientific men of the age, among 
which will be found those of Chambers, Hugh Miller, Agassiz, Gould, Guyot, Mar^ 
cou, Dr. Harris, Dr. Wayland, Dr. Williams, Dr. Ripley, Dr. Kitto, Dr. Tweedie, 
Dr. Choules, Dr. Sprague, Newcomb, Banvard, “Walter Aimwell,” Bungener, Miall, 
Archdeacon Hare, and others of like standing and popularity, and to this list they are 
constantly adding. (1) 




























































































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